


Last First Kiss

by NarryMusings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Cheating, Emotional/Mental Cheating, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, M/M, Mutual Pining, Niall is really conflicted, Pining, Sexual Content, Sexual References, Slow Burn, and it takes quite a long time for him to figure out his shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-08-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 02:06:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 56,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7247812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NarryMusings/pseuds/NarryMusings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I mean, unless you're afraid of kissing."</p>
<p>Niall narrows his gaze. "I'm not afraid of kissing."</p>
<p>"You're afraid of kissing strangers, then."</p>
<p>"I'm not a <i>fan</i> of kissing strangers."</p>
<p>Harry smirks, sticking out his right hand for Niall to take – and Niall can't help but notice how big they are, his hands. "Harry Styles. Born in Cheshire, moved to London for school a few years ago and didn't have the heart to leave. And now we're not complete strangers, so what do you say?"</p>
<p>Niall looks from a hopeful, wide-eyed Louis to a somewhat smug, charming and definitely cheeky Harry Styles. He sighs. "Fine."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This is still a work in progress - and has been for a long, long time. So lets just...take it easy, yeah?
> 
> It's based on the video that went viral a couple of years ago; 'FIRST KISS'.
> 
> Also, a big thanks goes to Ryan (Diaryofanarcissisticgayman/narryhadalittleliam) for being a huge help, listening to me whine and complain, and being my rock through this on-going process. And also to Jess (narrywaffles) for being so supportive and encouraging. Thank you very much!

[Chapter One]

 

Niall's life is totally and completely perfect. He has a full-time job at BBC Radio 1 with Nick Grimshaw, the boy of his sweetest dreams and his secondary school sweetheart, Ashton, and a wicked flat in the heart of London, England – though they've recently started to talk about getting a house to start a family in. A _home_ , as Ashton would say. Everything is going well for him. He doesn’t have any complaints.

And then his best friend, a quirky and outspoken lad who's obsessed with cameras and lenses and pictures, named Louis, asks him for a favour one day over his lunch break – and, well, Niall doesn’t know it yet but he definitely should've known that all hell was going to break loose. 

Louis and his other friend, Zayn, the shy, broke artist type, want to do an art/video project, Louis tells him. They want to have five pairs of strangers kiss on camera – and yes, Louis knows the concept is kind of weird and awkward, _‘but it's also kind of sweet, isn't it?’_ Niall would beg to differ, if he weren’t mildly afraid that Louis would chew him out for it.

The catch? They want Niall to help them find 10 strangers to take part in this project.

"And what exactly do you need _me_ to do it for?" Niall asks Louis through a mouthful of his grilled chicken sandwich. "Why can't you or Zayn do it?"

"Because Zayn's too shy to approach random strangers and I don't really _like_ to approach random strangers. And we both know _you_ have your Irish charm, which works ridiculously well on random strangers."

Niall rolls his eyes. "So neither you nor Zayn want to approach these people but you want these people to kiss random other people? _On camera?_ "

"It's not so much that we don't _want_ to approach these people, it's just that, well, I think you'd be better at it."

"Better? Better at what – manipulating strangers to give up their lips in the name of 'art'?"

Louis nods, leaning forward with his elbows on the small, round table. "See, Zayn and I are obviously more into the arts, y’know? He hides behind his drawings and his ideas and I hide behind my video cameras. You, on the other hand, my dear Niall, are a _people_ person – you love people! Right? That's why you're on the radio! Well, that and you love music, but that's beside the point. The point is, Niall, I just think it would be so much easier if _you_ just recruited people for us."

Niall thinks about it for a minute, staring across the table at his friend who's staring back at him intently. He is kind of right, actually. Louis is kind of a nut job and has a tendency to scare people off, especially strangers. And Zayn doesn't really like to even talk with the people he does know, so talking to strangers makes him incredibly uncomfortable. But Niall has a habit of making friends everywhere he goes, even with complete strangers. Therefore, if Louis or Zayn were to approach anyone about kissing anyone, they’d more than likely both fail miserably. They’d make the whole idea seem…creepy. Which, Niall thinks it is, but Louis wouldn’t ask if it didn’t mean something to him so, well- "Fine, I'll help you." (Afterwards, he’ll wonder if he should be at least a little bit concerned over how quickly he’d caved.)

"Great! Yes! Thank you!" Louis cheers, jumping up out of his seat. He throws his camera bag over his shoulder. "So, we'll shoot it next Saturday in my studio so we'll need all the strangers to be there – let’s say around 2 o'clock? But you should probably be there around 1:30-"

"Wait, why do _I_ have to be there? I thought I just had to manipulate people into doing this."

Louis shrugs. "Well, yeah, but we'll need you to defuse the tension when everything is happening. I mean, you know how awkward first kisses are."

Niall blinks. "But-"

"I have to go, but thank you _so much_ , Nialler. Remember, next Saturday at 2 o'clock! I'll text you the questions you should ask them later!"

He watches as Louis takes off down the street, ignores the regret already gurgling in the pit of his stomach. The fucker's too fast for Niall to call out to, let alone chase down anyway. 

Oh, the favours Louis Tomlinson is going to owe Niall if this ends badly…

X

The first half of the following Saturday flies by with virtually zero problems, save for the fact that Louis has to change the battery in his camera because he was too scatter-brained the day before to remember to charge the one that was in it. In the middle of setting up for a kiss, which made everything feel about 10 times more awkward. The strangers are good sports though, so there are minimal complaints.

The first kiss is between a 19 year old girl and a 22 year old boy and the attraction between them can be felt all around the room as they linger and flirt before, finally, the boy takes the girl by the hand and pulls her into the kiss. It's sweet and it's slow and it's like one of those first kisses straight out of a chick flick. It seems to go on forever, whilst simultaneously ending far too quickly.

The second kiss is between an older woman and a younger man, ages unconfirmed, and at first it's kind of weird and awkward, probably because they're both thinking too much, but then they seem to figure each other out and it's short, but it’s cute and lovely.

The third kiss is between two college girls, one with straight long hair and one with short bouncy curls that graze her shoulders. Their kiss is soft and tentative and giggly and they both smile against one another's mouth before the girl with the long hair deepens it into a steady rhythm, their lips in perfect sync. 

The fourth kiss is between a goth, scary looking lad and a shy, book-wormy looking girl. She blushes like crazy and turns her head to the side, giggling nervously, three times before he manages to kiss her slow and sensual and it's like he's almost equally as nervous – and then it's like a switch is turned on and she's clutching at his studded leather jacket and he's holding her face in his hands and they're literally inseparable. (Niall feels a bit like he’s intruding on something special, so he turns away after that.)

It's when the two of them are walking away from the white backdrop Zayn had set up strategically at the back of the large studio room, by the wall of windows for good light, hand in hand, that Louis approaches Niall in a panic. "We're missing someone, Niall. Why are we missing someone?"

"I don't – I don't know, Louis. I didn't know I had to keep track-"

"Of course you have to keep track, you're the one who found these people!" Louis snaps.

"You're the one who _wanted_ these people!" Niall scoffs. "You and Zayn paired them up, so you should be keeping track."

"Obviously I am, since I'm the one who noticed someone's missing."

"So then just do one less couple-"

Louis scoffs, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes like it's the most ridiculous suggestion he's ever heard. "I can't do _one less couple_ , Niall. I need all five couples for an even total number."

Niall’s brow furrows in confusion. "It'll always be an even number-"

"No, I need five couples, Niall. Ten people in total. Otherwise the whole thing is ruined."

"Ruined? It's only _one_ less couple. _Eight_ people in total is an even number-"

"I don't want one less couple, I want all five couples. If I don't have five couples then it's ruined. Why do you have to be so difficult, Niall?"

"Wha – me?!" Niall yells incredulously. " _I'm_ being difficult? You-"

"I have an idea," Louis says, cutting the blond boy off suddenly. And, yeah, with his wide eyes and the mischievous grin spread across his lips, he certainly _looks_ like he has an idea. A bad one, probably.

Niall can practically see the lightbulb hanging over Louis' head. "No – whatever it is, no, Lou."

"But you haven't even heard it!"

"Yeah and I'm sure it's not a good idea so-"

" _You_ can be my last stranger."

Niall blinks and then stares at him.

Louis grins. "You can be my last stranger, Niall. You can kiss-"

"Yeah, no, I heard you the first time,” Niall snaps. “And the answer is still no."

"But-"

Niall shakes his head adamantly, glares firmly at Louis. "Aside from the fact that I have a fucking _boyfriend_ , Tommo, this idea of yours is _insane_ and just because I got equally insane people to do it, doesn't mean I want to do it whatsoever."

Louis pouts. "Please, Niall. Please?"

"No, Lou. I have a boyfriend-"

"So? It's just a kiss, Niall, it won't mean anything."

Niall folds his arms across his chest, tilts his head challengingly. "If it doesn't mean anything then why do you want me to take part in it so badly?"

Louis looks thoughtful for a moment. "Touché. But you owe me, Ni."

"I _owe_ you?” Niall scoffs. “What for?"

"You let me believe that I actually had a sodding chance with Grimmy, meanwhile he had a freaking boyfriend-"

"How the hell was I supposed to know that he had a boyfriend who was still in the closet?!" Niall yelps, sounding – and probably looking – scandalized. 

"You work with him, how could you not?"

"Because the boyfriend was in the _closet_ – and besides! If you and Grimmy did become a thing then you wouldn't be happily in love with _Eleanor_ , so don't tell me I _owe_ you."

"Regardless, Niall," Louis says, waving his hand in the air as though to wave off Niall's point. "God, c'mon, please? Please, just this once. Ashton never has to find out – and we all know he hates my videos anyways so it's not like he'll ever _see_ it."

Niall rolls his eyes, squares his shoulders. "So you want me to not only cheat on my boyfriend, but you want me to lie to him too? All in the name of _art_ , eh, Tommo?"

"Excuse me?" A voice sounds from somewhere next to them.

Both boys whirl around to find a tall and lanky, curly haired boy with wide, bright green eyes and a cheeky smile that puts dimples the size of craters into his cheeks. Niall remembers bumping into the boy – quite literally – just the other day and asking him, on a whim, if he wanted to take part in the project. The boy had been charming and cheeky, albeit clumsy, and he'd agreed wholeheartedly – excitedly, even. There's no way in hell Niall could ever forget a beautiful face like his; the boy's name, however, has managed to slip his mind. 

"Um, 'm Harry,” the boy introduces. “I just – I've been waiting outside for a while now and I saw two people leave a little while ago, but nobody has come to get me." His voice is a slow, albeit soothing drawl.

"Right, yeah, it seems as though we're missing your partner so we're just trying to find a replacement," Louis responds. "Sorry for the delay, mate."

"Oh. Have you managed to find someone? Or should I just go-"

"No!” Louis shouts quickly, and a little bit aggressively. “No, I haven't managed to find anyone and no you can't go. I have a thing about even numbers and I need you to stay put so _you_ don't go missing too."

"But...you're always going to have an even number," Harry points out.

"That's what _I_ said," Niall mutters.

"I need five couples," Louis says firmly, looking pointedly at Niall.

"Well what about you, Irish?"

Niall quirks an eyebrow at the source of the voice, the incredibly good-looking brunette stranger, which sounds an awful lot like a challenge.

"You're the only other person here, except myself and those two lads, who I assume are the brains behind this project," Harry says, motioning to Louis standing by Niall and to Zayn, who's lying sprawled across the floor scribbling a pencil over a piece of parchment paper. "Surely if _you_ just kissed me it would save a lot of time and effort in finding someone else and this whole thing can be wrapped up in no time."

Niall considers this stranger for a moment, looks him up and down. Harry is definitely good looking – incredibly so – and so even if Niall decides to go through with it, he could most definitely do worse.

"I mean, unless you're afraid of kissing."

Niall narrows his gaze. "I'm not afraid of kissing."

"You're afraid of kissing strangers, then."

"I'm not a _fan_ of kissing strangers."

Harry smirks, sticking out his right hand for Niall to take – and Niall can't help but notice how big they are, his hands. "Harry Styles. Born in Cheshire, moved to London for school a few years ago and didn't have the heart to leave. And now we're not _complete_ strangers, so what do you say?"

Niall looks from a hopeful, wide-eyed Louis to a somewhat smug, charming and definitely cheeky _Harry Styles_. He sighs. "Fine."

Louis jumps, literally, and claps his hands together once, loudly and firmly, as he calls out to Zayn to get his “non-existent arse” off the floor while simultaneously pushing both Niall and Harry in front of the camera. "Okay, stand there and whatever you do, do not move," he says hurriedly, whirling around to get behind the camera.

Niall stands facing Harry, who stands facing him with his hands clasped behind his back. He shoves his own hands into the front pockets of his trousers and as Harry spares a glance to watch Louis and Zayn move around the room adjusting lighting and other things, Niall takes a minute to look Harry over. The Cheshire native is wearing what looks like a white shirt with a neckline low enough that it falls just under his collar bones, revealing the tips of what looks like a tattoo underneath each bone, and over that he's wearing a black and red plaid button down shirt, the sleeves rolled halfway up tattooed forearms - Niall kind of wants to know the story behind the mermaid - with the buttons undone, a pair of black skinny jeans with a rip on his right knee and some old, beaten up brown leather boots. He looks good. So good, that if Niall wasn't in a committed relationship and he saw Harry at a pub or something, he'd probably want to kiss him.

"So," Harry says, his voice pulling Niall out of his thoughts.

"I have a boyfriend," Niall blurts.

Harry quirks a perfectly arched eyebrow. "And?"

"I'm just...throwing it out there. We're secondary school sweethearts."

"Nice," Harry murmurs. 

"This isn't technically cheating, right?” Niall asks, playing nervously with his fingers. “Since it won't mean anything..."

"Right, yeah. Just a first kiss shared between strangers."

"An _only_ kiss shared between strangers," Niall corrects. 

Harry nods. "Exactly, yeah."

"Right then, lads!" Louis exclaims from behind the camera, having adjusted the height of the tripod it's sitting on and fooling around with the settings. He grins like a Cheshire Cat at Niall and Harry. "Carry on!"

Niall doesn't know what to do. And it doesn't happen very often, but he doesn't know what to say either. He stands, facing the _beautiful_ boy – and he really does think the boy is beautiful – shifting awkwardly from foot to foot with his gaze glued to Harry's eyes. Harry's eyes are beautiful too, a green so vibrant they remind Niall of the green fields back in Ireland. 

Harry stares back for a moment and then takes one long step towards Niall, which isn't hard considering the length of Harry's legs. He's standing so close now that Niall can see a very thin line of dark green around the edges of his iris, can see just how long Harry's eyelashes are, can feel Harry's breath – which smells like peppermint bubblegum – fanning over his face. 

"You're kind of really beautiful," Niall whispers before he has the mind to stop him. A minute ago he couldn’t find any words and now it feels like if he doesn’t hold onto his tongue he won’t be able to stop.

Harry smirks, cocking his head to the side as he removes his hands from behind his back to place them on Niall's hips to pull them closer together. "Yeah, you too."

Niall swallows around the lump in his throat. "That's kind of redundant, dontcha think? I've already used that adjective, Styles. Get a new one."

"Gorgeous, then. Flawless. Perfect. Need I go on?"

"We're not meant to be flirting, boys. We're meant to be kissing," Louis snaps from behind the camera.

"Ever heard of a thing called foreplay?" Harry asks, his voice sounding light and playful as he teases Louis whilst keeping his gaze glued entirely on Niall's face. He smirks as Niall's cheeks flush pink.

"I don't think he has, actually," Niall laughs, ducking his head slightly in a vain attempt to hide the blush spreading across his face.

"Just kiss already!"

Niall rolls his eyes, tearing his gaze away from Harry's momentarily to stick his tongue out at the camera and when he looks back he feels soft, full lips pressed against his own. Harry's _kissing_ him. 

He's shocked at first, frozen in all his movements as Harry molds his lips against Niall's. His instincts kick in seconds later, just as Harry's hands come up to cup Niall's face, and he kisses back. Fireworks explode behind his eyelids and his whole body feels like it's on fire as Harry groans, deepening the kiss. Niall's hands come up to rest on Harry's hips, but then Harry tugs at Niall's bottom lip gently with his teeth and a moan slips past Niall's own teeth and Harry's licking into Niall's mouth, pressing himself firmly against the length of Niall's body and Niall's hands grasp at the back of Harry's jacket, holding him close. 

This _fifth_ kiss is sudden, starts off slow and tentative and then all of a sudden it's hard and it's desperate and it's hungry and Niall's knees feel weak, and goose pimples are spreading across his skin. It’s guttural moans and breathless gasps. It's like nothing Niall has ever felt or experienced, this feeling of falling and flying at the same time; this feeling of not even caring if he's falling _or_ flying. It's like no other kiss that Niall has ever had before and he never wants it to end.

But then it does end and Niall isn't sure how long it's been – but then he supposes it doesn't matter anyway – and Louis and Zayn are staring at them, eyes wide and shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. Harry drops his hands from where they'd tangled in Niall's hair and Niall lets go of the back of Harry's jacket as the taller boy steps away from him. Niall watches as Harry brings his right hand up to rub at the back of his neck, notices that his lips are a slightly darker pink than they were before and that his eyes are darker and heavier because his pupils are almost completely dilated. He reckons he probably looks quite similar, knows for a fact that his cheeks must be burning red because he can feel them.

Niall clears his throat, taking an extra, precautionary step back. "Well, that was..." he trails off, searching his brain for the right word as he stuffs his hands into his pockets.

"Brilliant," Harry supplies.

Niall feels himself blush even harder. "Yeah. Brilliant."

"If you were single I'd probably _definitely_ ask you out on a date."

The blond haired boy blinks, taken aback. "Um...if I were single I'd probably definitely say yes."

Harry grins cheekily – (Niall has a sudden urge to poke his dimples) – and lifts his hand towards Niall to occupy the space between them. "It was a pleasure kissing you today, Niall."

Niall can't help but roll his eyes, smiling nonetheless, because who says that? He takes Harry's hand and shakes it. "You too, Harry Styles from Cheshire," is what his mouth says, absentmindedly.

Only after Harry has gone and Louis and Zayn have tidied up the studio, and while Niall is on his way back home – to where he knows Ashton is waiting for him – does the guilt really begin to set in. Because not only has he just kissed another boy, but he can still feel the tingle the other boy's lips have left behind.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He decides, then, as Ashton comes back into the room and drops himself onto the couch, his hand seeking Niall's to pull it into his lap as he melts into Niall’s side, that his weirdness has to stop. He has to stop acting paranoid; has to stop feeling guilty, and being distracted. He has to start acting normal again, has to start _feeling_ normal again… It was just a kiss, after all, and it meant nothing. 
> 
> Harry Styles from Cheshire, whoever that is, means _nothing_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright lovies, here's the second chapter!
> 
> Warning: Harry is not physically in this chapter, as it's more about Niall and his relationship with Ashton - both before and after the first chapter. So don't be alarmed, and please don't disappear because of Nashton's presence? The story has, admittedly, not even truly started yet.
> 
> Happy reading! :)

[Chapter Two]

Niall kind of turns into a paranoid, distracted mess after what he's now calling The Stranger Kiss in his head – and only in his head because he'd sworn both Louis and Zayn to secrecy the following morning, after a sleepless night due to the guilt eating away at him and the fact that Ashton was so innocently fast asleep right next him, completely unaware that Niall had even thought about kissing someone else, let alone that he’d gone through with it. He has no intentions of allowing Ashton to find out about it, is the thing.

He’d toyed with the idea at 3 o’clock in the morning, mere hours after he’d kissed _Harry_ , thought about waking Ashton up to tell him the truth – that he’d kissed a stranger, but that it didn’t matter because it was only for one of Louis’ _stupid_ projects. But he’d decided against it rather quickly; couldn’t bear picturing the look of betrayal on Ashton’s face. And besides, what’s the point in talking about something that doesn’t even matter? The kiss didn’t matter, after all. So why bring about unnecessary drama? Why create a potential problem, when it isn’t even a problem?

Still, though, Niall’s been paranoid.

It’s like every time Ashton talks to him, he's overanalysing everything they say to one another; like he's trying to figure out a deeper meaning, trying to see if maybe Ashton had somehow figured it out, if Ashton is testing him. He's paranoid because all of a sudden he thinks about everything he says and does before he says or does anything; he’s always on edge whenever Louis or Zayn – specifically Louis, because Louis' the one with the big mouth – are around Ashton or their flat. He’s paranoid because Louis is going to be uploading the video any day now (as soon as he’s done with the edits) and when he does, well, the video becomes fair game unless Niall can do everything in his power to keep Ashton from watching it. More than anything, though, is that he's paranoid that Ashton is going to find out – whether by seeing the video, or by word of Louis’ big mouth – and _leave _him.__

And he's _distracted_ because he's paranoid. He's distracted because his thoughts are always all over the place – on Ashton, and on Louis’ and Zayn's stupid art video, and the kiss, and a certain curly-haired boy with bright green eyes, a big fat dimple in his cheek and perfect, kissable lips-

"Oi! Niall!"

Niall's head snaps up, looking up from the TV at his boyfriend, who's standing in front of him expectantly, clad in a pair of grey sweat pants and one of Niall’s white muscle shirts. He blinks, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Sorry, what?"

"Nando's or Chinese?" Ashton asks him, holding up a Nando's take away menu in one hand and a Hakkasan menu in the other. He looks thoroughly torn between the two.

"Oh, I don't care. Whatever you want," Niall replies, sinking back into the couch.

Ashton sighs. "I already told you I can't decide, Ni, so help me choose. Please."

"Oh,” Niall murmurs with a shrug of his shoulders as his gaze lands back on the TV. He’s missed the whole first half of Derby vs. Cardiff, being lost in his own thoughts and all anyway – so what’s a few more minutes? “Uh, Nando's then."

Ashton stares at him for a minute before sighing softly as he drops both hands to his sides and sits on the edge of the coffee table in front of Niall. Niall watches him, confused, as Ashton leans forward, elbows resting on his knees so they're literally face to face. "Everything okay with you?" he asks softly, worriedly.

Niall nods, swallowing hard around a lump in his throat. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno, you’ve just seemed kind of... _off_ this week.”

Niall frowns, feeling guilty (again.) That means that Ashton has noticed at least a little bit of his behaviour. He leans forward, resting his hands on Ashton’s forearms. "I'm fine, just tired,” he says softly. It’s not a total lie, at least; he’s not been sleeping very well lately, after all. Not since _The Stranger Kiss_. “I’ve had a lot of long days at the station and I guess it’s just gotten to me.” (That’s actually not a lie either, because Niall has had some rather long days at the station and that – along with not sleeping, might not be the whole reason, but it’s reason enough, and it keeps him from lying.)

Ashton hums, like he understands, though he still looks a bit unconvinced.

"I'm fine, Ash. I promise," Niall whispers, pecking his boyfriend's lips with his own as he runs a hand through his hair. Ashton’s lips are soft, and they taste like cherry chapstick. And his hair is soft and wavy, like silk between his fingers – like how he imagines Harry’s would feel-

"And you're sure you don't mind just staying in tonight instead of going out with the lads?" Ashton asks.

"Of course I don't. A movie night with my perfect boyfriend sounds is _perfect_!" Niall says enthusiastically. He leans forward, presses his forehead against Ashton’s gently. “Much better than going out,” he murmurs. And he means it. He misses just spending time with Ashton.

Ashton smiles – and Niall's heart melts a little bit because he loves Ashton's smile, loves _making_ Ashton smile; loves _Ashton_ – as he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to Niall's nose before he pushes himself up. "Right then, I'll just call Nando's and we can get this movie night started, yeah?"

Niall smiles back as Ashton disappears into the kitchen to make the phone call. He looks back at the TV, but doesn't really see it because Ashton’s voice is carrying through the flat, requesting Niall’s favourite meal by heart, and Niall feels guilty ( _again_.)

Guilty because he’s right here, with him, and Niall can’t stop thinking about another man. Guilty because he's been acting weird and of course Ashton has noticed, how could he not? They live together. More than that, though, they know each other. Ashton knows Niall in a way that nobody has ever known Niall, not even Louis. _Of course_ he would notice any difference in Niall’s behaviour, subtle or not.

He decides, then, as Ashton comes back into the room and drops himself onto the couch, his hand seeking Niall's to pull it into his lap as he melts into Niall’s side, that his weirdness has to stop. He has to stop acting paranoid; has to stop feeling guilty, and being distracted. He has to start acting normal again, has to start _feeling_ normal again… It was just a kiss, after all, and it meant nothing.

Harry Styles from Cheshire, whoever that is, means _nothing_.

X

Niall met Ashton when they were both 12 years old. Ashton was the new kid in town, straight out of Australia, and Niall was the popular kid who just so happened to live next door to him so he took it upon himself to show Ashton around, to be Ashton's ‘go-to person’ of sorts. And then it just so happened that Ashton was in his class at school, so of course it was probably inevitable that they became inseparable.

They ate breakfast together in the mornings (sometimes at Niall’s house, sometimes at Ashton’s), took the bus to school together, sat next to each other at the back of the class – where they often got into more trouble than not and sometimes had to be separated. They took the bus back home, did homework at each other’s houses and, sometimes they had dinner with each other’s' families. (Sometimes their families had dinner together.) The only time they were ever apart was when it was time to go to bed, or on the weekends when they had to spend time with their families or do their chores. (Sometimes they’d help each other with their chores, but their parents never knew that – or, at the very least, they never let on that they did. Niall’s mum probably knew, though, because Maura knows everything.)

When they were 15 years old, Niall had finally plucked up the courage to kiss Ashton. It was the first time Niall had kissed _anyone_ , let alone someone he _liked_ and so he was nervous and his hands were sweating and he felt like the butterflies in his stomach were going to make him physically ill. It hadn’t helped, either, that Niall knew that it was definitely not going to be Ashton’s first kiss. It’s the one thing that made the thought of kissing Ashton absolutely terrifying. (What if Ashton didn’t like him back? What if Niall wasn’t any good?)

It was quick, probably too quick, because Niall had just wanted to get it over with, in the end. In fact, Ashton had barely had a chance to kiss him back when Niall had pulled away, embarrassed, and begun to apologize profusely, nervously, and desperately.

He'd apologized for being so blunt and for ruining everything and before Ashton had even had a second to respond, Niall had turned to flee with his heart in his throat and tears in his eyes. Ashton had grabbed his arm, then, and spun him back around and pressed their lips together again – hard and with purpose. It was a bit awkward, at first, and it had taken a minute for Niall to figure it out – and even then, there was still too much teeth – and it was like floating on Cloud 9. It was thrilling, and it was beautiful, and that’s when Niall knew that he’d never not want to kiss Ashton Irwin.

They'd become closer, after that; had been each other’s first _everything_ , (save for Ashton’s first kiss.) They’d become each other’s _only everything_ , really.

They spent almost their whole secondary school lives together before moving to London to attend university together; Niall for sound engineering and radio broadcasting, and Ashton for accounting. After living in the residence building for their first year, a couple of floors apart – though they spent most nights sleeping in each other’s dorm rooms anyway – and saving the money they’d earned from part-time jobs, they decided to rent a flat just off campus. It wasn’t much – in fact, it was pretty small, but it was doable and it was affordable on their student budget and it was only temporary; just until they were both ready to buy a house, and really start planning the rest of their lives.

Now, two years after graduation, they're both working full-time – Niall, with BBC Radio 1 as a morning DJ alongside Nick Grimshaw, whilst Ashton was lucky in landing a position at PwC – and living in a cool, kind of swanky-like flat in the heart of downtown London. Niall's dream has always been to live here in London, where it’s busy and exciting, and living with Ashton – _being_ with Ashton – had just always been a given. Niall had never wanted, nor needed, anything or any _one_ else.

They've always been perfect for one another. Things have always been simple for them, between them. They never fight, hardly ever even have petty disagreements on anything, they enjoy spending as much time with each other as possible – which has, admittedly and unfortunately, become harder, given their continuously busy schedules.

And Niall has always been content, always enjoyed the easy-going nature of his relationship with Ashton. For eight years, he’s loved Ashton – which is nearly half of his life already. It’s crazy, Niall thinks, to think about.

The thing, however, is that lately – and Niall's never admitted this to anyone, not even Louis – he's been feeling sort of...claustrophobic.

Niall had always dreamt about buying a house with a mortgage and a white picket fence and adopting kids and maybe getting a dog with Ashton, but when Ashton brought it up a few weeks prior to The Stranger Kiss incident – like, _seriously_ brought it up, even going so far as to check online for open houses – something had stirred inside Niall. He had entertained Ashton's searching, looked over his boyfriend's shoulder at the laptop sitting on the coffee table, for as long as he could before he felt like he was suffocating and had excused himself to the toilet. He’d felt like the world was closing in on him, like everything was suddenly moving way too fast for him and all of a sudden he was afraid. _Afraid of a house and a mortgage and kids; afraid of his future he’d planned in his head long ago already._

After having a mini panic attack, which he’d managed to keep to himself, Niall had gone back into the living room and distracted Ashton with sex so they didn't have to talk about the _house-mortgage-kids-dog_ thing, but then later that night Ashton had started to look, again, at houses on the laptop when Niall had crawled into bed and Niall had muttered something about being tired and rolled over to find sleep. (Granted, sleep hadn’t come very easily, which made ignoring the heavy feeling in his chest a little bit harder to ignore.)

The following couple of weeks had been much of the same too: Ashton talking and talking and talking about it – the house, and the mortgage – and Niall entertaining him but not really feeling it. Not really even listening.

 

It's not that Niall doesn't want the _house-mortgage-kids-dog_ thing because he does; he really, really does. It's not that he doesn't love Ashton because he does; he always has. And it's not that he's getting cold feet – except, well, he kind of is.

The fact that he now can't stop thinking about The Stranger Kiss – or the stranger behind the kiss – really isn't helping. And he doesn’t even know _why_.

X

One week after the incident in the living room, Ashton starts talking about making appointments to go to a few open houses. Again. Or, _still_. He's all excitement and happiness and big smiles when he shows Niall some of the pictures online and, yeah, Niall finds himself smiling along because Ashton is excited and happy, and Ashton’s feelings have always been incredibly contagious. But he's still kind of freaking out deep down inside the confines of himself, so when Louis calls to invite them out for drinks, Niall literally jumps at the distraction before dragging Ashton down the hall to their bedroom to get changed.  
Ashton could use the distraction too, probably.

 

Louis brings Eleanor, and Zayn brings Perrie, so the drinks thing kind of becomes a couples/drinks thing and, once again, Niall is glad for the distraction – from Ashton and his house hunting _and_ from the boy with curly hair and bright green eyes he keeps seeing in his head sometimes. (Not that he would ever admit to that.)

They're three drinks in, and the girls are in the toilets, when Louis brings up the _video_. He doesn’t mention Niall’s part in it, doesn’t even acknowledge Niall as he talks about it, but Niall’s throat closes like he’s forgotten how to breathe all the same. His heartbeat quickens anxiously, and his palms begin to sweat nervously, and the paranoia that Niall’s been trying so hard to subdue over the last several days comes back full force.

"-'m hoping to have it uploaded next weekend," Louis says before popping a chip into his mouth. 

Niall chokes on the beer he's trying to swallow, which prompts Ashton to rub soothing circles on his back as Niall reaches for a napkin to wipe the dribble down his chin. _Next weekend?_ He’d known it was coming, had known from the beginning that Louis was obviously going to upload it, but _next weekend_ suddenly feels far too soon.

"What's the video about?" Ashton asks, looking between him and Zayn.

Niall glares pointedly at Louis, which Louis either doesn't see or pointedly ignores. 

"Zayn and I had this really cool idea to get a bunch of strangers together, pair them off based on a few variables and then have them kiss on camera," Louis explains, like he's practiced the explanation a million times in front of a mirror. His smile is proud, as though the idea of the video is an actual accomplishment.

Ashton looks confused, eyebrows furrowed. The idea seems to have gone straight over Ashton’s head, which is probably a good thing. "Why?"

Louis shrugs, glancing sideways at Zayn, who also shrugs before folding his arms across the table. "Why not?"

"Where'd you find these strangers?"

"You'd have to ask Niall that," Zayn says, stretching a finger out to point in Niall’s direction.

Niall's eyes widen, panicked, before he glares, once more, across the table at his loud-mouthed best friend. _Ex-best friend_ now, if he’s being honest.

His boyfriend looks at him curiously, one eyebrow arched. "Oh _really_? How come you never mentioned rounding up a bunch of strangers so they could kiss each other?" he asks. He’s more just…genuinely curious than anything, which is infinitely better than him actually being suspicious.

The blond shrugs, looking indifferent whilst ignoring the panic bubbling in his stomach. "Louis asked me if I could just find some strangers for it as a favour, so I did it in my spare,” he replies with a shrug he tries desperately to make look casual. He really fucking hates Louis right now. “No big deal."

"It's kinda weird, mate," Ashton tells Louis a few seconds later. Louis, who merely shrugs in response.

They’ve never really gotten along. They don’t necessarily hate each other, they just- Don’t get each other. Which may, or may not – but definitely _may_ , be working out for Niall at the moment.

Niall clears his throat rather loudly. "I'm gonna go get some more drinks,” he says, coincidentally at the same time Eleanor and Perrie return. “Lou, I need your help."

Louis groans drops his head back against the top of the booth. "Why me?! What about your boyfriend-"

"Because, _Tommo_ ," Niall replies, putting an emphasis on his friend's name knowingly. And he doesn’t exactly have a reply, so it’s a good thing that Louis gets him, at least.

 

Both of them slip out of the booth just before the girls slip back in, giggly and tipsy, and then Niall grabs Louis rather roughly by the arm and hauls him away as quickly as the limited space between tables and bar patrons allows him to.

Louis groans, tripping over his own feet and stumbling over others’. "Ow, Niall, what the hell-"

"I thought I told you not to talk about the video in front of Ashton," Niall snaps when they're in front of the bar, glaring at him.

Louis rubs at the spot on his arm where Niall’s hand had just been. "You said not to tell him that you're _in_ the video, mate. All I did was say I was gonna upload it-"

"Well now that he knows that the video exists he might decide to look it up!"

"Are you joking?" Louis scoffs. "Did you not see his face? There's no way he's gonna watch it, just like he's never watched any of my other videos." And, well, he has a point in that Ashton has never been interested in Louis’ videos before, if for no other reason than not understanding them – but still.

Niall sighs. "But what if he does, Lou? If he does, my relationship is over."

"Just…say it was my fault," Louis suggests.

"It _was_ your fault," Niall reminds him, folding his arms over his chest.

"Actually it was _yours_ ; you're the one who lost one of my strangers."

Niall rolls his eyes, has half a mind to remind Louis that it wasn’t in his non-existent job description to babysit the kissers, but decides against it when the bartender approaches them. Instead he leans forward over the bar to order another round of drinks for their table as he smiles politely, albeit tight-lipped, at the bartender. He orders more pints for the lads, and a couple of fruity cocktails for the girls – and then he promptly puts everything on Louis’ tab, despite Louis’ loud protest. “You deserve it for being an asshole best friend,” is all Niall says in response.

Louis sighs, squeezes gently at Niall’s shoulder. "Just relax, Niall. It was just a kiss."

"Right," Niall mutters. _Just_ a kiss, of course.

Just as he turns to look away from his best friend, whilst they wait for their drinks, and back to his boyfriend, a flash of brown curls and a red plaid shirt passes by the window. His heart jumps into his throat, but by the time his gaze can actually focus on the window itself, the brown and red blob is gone. It doesn't stop the butterflies from coming to life in his stomach at the thought that it could've been _him_ though.

X

The following Saturday is when Louis uploads the video, both to Youtube and Facebook, and Niall spends most of the day on edge, afraid that curiosity will get the best of Ashton and that he will want to watch it. He manages to get Ashton out and about for the majority of the afternoon to distract him, although that still does little to ease the paranoia that’s settled in his stomach. They go for a walk in the park and then stop in at their favourite ice cream shop for a cone and then Niall insists they go down to the river to watch the sun set – and if Ashton is a little taken back by Niall's forwardness today, he doesn't mention it.

Ashton winds up on the laptop mere minutes after they get home from having had dinner downtown and Niall thinks he might actually have a heart attack. He spends most of the evening sneaking glances over Ashton's shoulder to make sure he doesn't even accidentally stumble upon the video. He feels like an overly paranoid freak, or at least a guilty boyfriend trying desperately to not let his partner found out that he basically, more or less – but not on purpose – cheated on him. 

Niall manages to pull Ashton away from the laptop a few hours later, coaxes him to join Niall in the bedroom by palming at Ashton's crotch and whispering dirty nothing's into his ear. Ashton follows immediately, the laptop left forgotten on the coffee table, page open to a rather nice, country-style family home on the outskirts of London – and then Niall presses him against the mattress, straddles his waist, and lets Ashton have his way.

 

And if Ashton notices that Niall seems a bit distracted later that night, then he doesn't mention that either.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is Niall, by the way," Nick says, throwing an arm around the blond boy who's been stunned into silence. "He's the new misfit – the rookie I was telling you about; the one with potential – so much potential, in fact, that he aced his first _real_ interview with The Lumineers this morning. Doesn't help that he's a charmer either. AND look at his cheekbones," he adds, pinching playfully at Niall’s cheek whilst Niall, flustered and embarrassed, tries to shrug him off.
> 
> Harry's gaze lands on him, for real this time, and a warm smile adorns his beautiful face as he pulls himself away from Matt and leans across the table. And only then, as Harry continues to stare at him with this all-knowing gaze like he's looking straight into Niall's soul, does he realize he's been staring at Harry since the bloke sat down.  
> "I know," Harry declares softly. 
> 
> Niall stiffens, eyes wide – and he feels, rather than sees, Nick shift, looking from Harry to Niall and back again. _Fuck_ , Niall thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Threeeeeeee!
> 
> Harry makes an appearance, and things start to get a bit interesting - is basically what this chapter might be about.
> 
> Happy reading! :)

[Chapter Three]

 

Sometimes Niall sees a bloke with dark, curly hair and he remembers Harry's hair and the windswept look it had and how nicely it framed his face.  
Sometimes he sees something the exact colour green as Harry's eyes and he remembers how bright they were, how they sparkled and shone and flickered with happiness and lust and interest.

Sometimes he sees the colour red and remembers how vibrant and beautiful and plump Harry's lips were, how they felt pressed against his, and how they tasted. 

Sometimes Ashton kisses Niall and Niall doesn't really feel anything. He doesn't see fireworks. It doesn't feel like his whole body is on fire, like he's flying and falling at the same time. He doesn't even feel butterflies – and his palms don't even sweat.

The only emotion he feels afterwards is dread and guilt because he doesn't feel like he used to. Because _kissing_ Ashton doesn't feel like it used to, no matter how much he _loves_ Ashton.

Niall keeps it all of this to himself, however. He can’t even bear the thought of telling Ashton, doesn’t think he could stomach it even if he tried.

He doesn’t even tell Louis.

X

Niall sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his desk as he drops his head into his hands. He's been slaving over the same set of questions for hours now because none of them seem to sound right. In fact, the questions sound less like interview questions and more like _fan_ questions, if he’s honest.

Nick is finally letting him conduct his own interview tomorrow, is the thing, and it's with one of the hottest folk rock bands in the U.S. right now: The Lumineers. He's a huge, massive fan and he's dreamt about a moment like this for ages, has had all the questions he's ever wanted answers to – interesting ones, unique ones – mapped out in his head forever. Now that he actually has the chance to ask them, however, they'd decided to disappear on him. Now he just sounds like an idiot, asking generic questions just like everyone else.

He doesn't hear Ashton come in through the front door, doesn't hear his boyfriend come up behind him until Ashton's arms are already winding around his shoulders. 

Niall startles, shoulders tensing and heart jumping into his throat. "Jesus, Ashton!” he curses, hand clutching at the fabric of his shirt, where his heart should be. “Warn a bloke!"

"Sorry," Ashton chuckles, pressing a kiss to the side of Niall's neck. He hooks his chin over Niall’s shoulder then, looks down at the notebook splayed out in front of him. "Whatcha doing?"

"Just going over questions for The Lumineers for tomorrow,” Niall replies, sitting back against the chair. He knows Ashton is reading them over his shoulder.

"They sound great, babe."

"Yeah?” Niall asks hopefully. “Maybe I'm just overthinking it then, 'cause they don't sound right to me."

"Babe, c'mon," Ashton snorts. "You're gonna be fine, you'll always be fine. You're great with people, Ni."

"I'm gonna turn into a huge fangirl tomorrow," Niall moans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Ashton sighs, squeezing at Niall’s shoulders. "No, c'mon, you'll be fine, yeah."

Niall nods numbly, rubbing his hands over his face. 

"C'mon, I'll distract you," Ashton murmurs, snaking his hands down and then back up Niall's chest. He kisses Niall's neck, sucks on his flesh.

Niall shivers. "Ashton," he mutters, closing his eyes. As much as he wants to, would _love_ to, knows that it would release a lot of the stress he’s been feeling lately – he just really isn't feeling it tonight. "Ashton, 'm not in the mood."

Ashton ignores him as he snakes his hands lower, slips his fingers beneath the waistband of Niall's pants, strokes at Niall’s pubic hair. 

"Ashton, c'mon," Niall urges him gently. When Ashton doesn't stop, Niall pushes the chair backwards, which makes Ashton stumble back in surprise – and then he jumps to his feet, and whirls around. 

Ashton blinks, looking hurt and confused – and, okay, Niall really hadn't meant for that to happen. "W-what's wrong?"

"Nothing – nothing,” Niall says gently, eyes softening, feeling guilty. Why is he such an arse? “I'm just not in the mood.”

"You're never not in the mood."

"I'm just...I'm tired, okay? And I don't feel well, so-"

"Why are you lying to me?" Ashton asks him softly, eyebrows furrowed.

Niall freezes. Blinks. Gulps. "I-"

"And don't even think about lying about lying to me, okay? Something is going on with you and – and you need to tell me what it is," Ashton says firmly, albeit worriedly.

Niall sighs, running a hand through his hair as he turns away from the boy before him. "I'm fine," he insists, though he wishes he sounded more convincing, because not even he would believe himself.

"You're _not_ fine!" Ashton shouts – and it's the first time Niall has ever heard Ashton raise his voice, with anger or anything else. He’s not just angry, though. He sounds scared. "You've been acting weird and distant for _weeks_ now so, no, you're not fine. What the hell is going on with you, Niall?"

Niall looks at him. There's no way in hell he can tell Ashton the truth – not even a little bit of it, but he's right. Ashton is right. He _has_ been acting weird and distant for weeks and it's all because of the curly hair and the bright green eyes and the lovely lips and the beautiful face he has swimming around his head on a daily basis. But he can’t tell Ashton that. He won’t.

Luckily for him, however, he's also been working a lot – more hours, longer days, _more_ days… It coincides quite well, and it’s just as good of an excuse. "Work has just been really stressful lately and I'm just...I dunno," he murmurs. He takes a step forward, taking Ashton's hands in his as he intertwines their fingers. Ashton’s hands are warm and soft and familiar; Niall’s always loved Ashton’s hands. "And I know I've been really distant and I've been taking it out on you, in a way, and I'm so sorry, babe."  
Ashton looks up at him, smiling sadly, like he accepts Niall's answer. "You're sure it's just work?"

Niall swallows around the lump that's formed in his throat, takes a deep breath counteract the tightness in his chest. "The station's just been busy and I'm still the newest lad so I get tossed all of the hard work that nobody else wants. And now with Nick handing me this interview, I want to prove myself, you know? And it’s just – it’s a lot, Ash."

"Okay," Ashton whispers. 

Niall smiles softly, cupping Ashton’s face between his hands as he presses their foreheads together and strokes his thumbs over Ashton’s cheeks. "I'm sorry I've been taking it out on you – it's not your fault _at all_. Don’t ever think it is."

Ashton shrugs, his way of accepting Niall's apology, and presses a soft, tender kiss to Niall's lips. "Do you want some of that sleepy-time tea to help you sleep?” he asks, changing the subject easily. “That way you aren't up overanalyzing your _perfect_ questions all night long."

Niall smiles softly and his chest tightens because _of course_ Ashton knows that Niall will likely spend all night worrying about tomorrow's interview; Ashton [almost] knows everything about him. "Please," he murmurs thankfully.

Ashton disappears from the room, then, and Niall lets out a breath he didn't even know he'd been holding. 

X

Niall aces the interview. He gets through it without fangirling, vomiting or stuttering, which is really the only thing he'd cared about in the end, and he actually ends up having a great rapport with them. He even gets autographs and a picture for Facebook/Twitter, which he tweets with a link to the recording after the interview. 

Nick decides, as his co-host/mentor/boss, that it’s only proper etiquette to take Niall out for dinner and then drinks in celebration – and Niall is, in fact, _Irish_ so he accepts, of course. (Also, who says no to celebrating a job well done?)

He calls Ashton on his lunch break, buzzing first about the interview and then about The Lumineers and how genuinely _cool_ they are, and then he asks Ashton if he wants to join Niall and his co-workers for dinner after work. Ashton ends up declining in the end, says he's got a meeting scheduled through dinner and that he might even have to work through the rest of the evening. And while Niall is disappointed, of course, because he’d like for Ashton to be there, he's not disappointed enough to let it ruin the rest of his day. 

Besides, he's pretty sure Ashton can't stand Nick anyway, so it's probably a good thing that he can't make it.

 

Dinner comes and goes and then Nick drags Niall and four of their co-workers, Chris, Fiona, Annie and Matt, across the street to a pub.

It's dimly lit on the inside, to "set the mood". Along one wall are a number of booths – one of which Nick snags, tossing his jacket into the corner before grabbing Niall's shoulder and pulling him onto the bench next to him. Along the other wall is the bar. In the middle are several tables, large and small, and at the very back of the pub is a small stage with a red curtain at the back and stage lights hanging from the ceiling. 

Niall recognizes the place as the same pub Louis had dragged both him and Zayn to a handful of times when he'd been wallowing in self-pity for the fact that Nick had a secret, closeted boyfriend. In fact, the last time they'd come here is the same night Louis met Eleanor.  
They're only two rounds and half a football game in when Nick's entire face brightens and he hollers a single word across the barely-crowded pub. "Harry!"

Niall's stomach flips and his heart practically stutters in his chest and – _what the fuck did he just say?_ He stares at his drink, his fingers playing with the condensation on the glass, too afraid to look up, heart in his throat and pounding in his ears. _Perhaps it's not him,_ Niall thinks. Perhaps it's a totally different Harry; _Harry_ is a fairly common name, is it not? Prince Harry, Harry Potter, Harry Kane-

"Well if it isn't Mr. Harold Styles," Nick drawls beside him. 

Niall's gaze snaps up, then, landing first on brown curls and then green eyes and bright, red lips. And, yeah, he definitely is _not_ a totally different Harry. He’s 100 per cent _Harry Styles from Cheshire_.

"Well if it isn't Nicholas Grimmy," Harry says, smirking cheekily. His gaze flickers, lands briefly on Niall before he tears it away again to look back at Nick.

Niall looks away too, tries to calm his rapidly beating heart as he finds the coaster his pint is sitting on suddenly incredibly interesting.

Nick rolls his eyes, playful grin on his lips. "Harry, you remember my gang of misfits?" he asks, gesturing to their other four co-workers. All four of them smile graciously, familiarly.

"Of course I _remember_ , I wasn't that drunk," Harry replies, sliding into the booth next to Matt – and directly across from Niall. "Hello, Matthew."

"Hello, dear Harry," Matt greets in return, a sly smile spreading across his lips. Harry leans in, then, grabbing Matt's face in both hands and planting an obnoxious kiss to his cheek. 

If Niall's rapidly beating heart falls a bit in his chest at the gesture, then he ignores it.

"This is Niall, by the way," Nick says, throwing an arm around the blond boy who's been stunned into silence. "He's the new misfit – the rookie I was telling you about; the one with potential – so much potential, in fact, that he aced his first _real_ interview with The Lumineers this morning. Doesn't help that he's a charmer either. AND look at his cheekbones," he adds, pinching playfully at Niall’s cheek whilst Niall, flustered and embarrassed, tries to shrug him off.

Harry's gaze lands on him, for real this time, and a warm smile adorns his beautiful face as he pulls himself away from Matt and leans across the table. And only then, as Harry continues to stare at him with this all-knowing gaze like he's looking straight into Niall's soul, does he realize he's been staring at Harry since the bloke sat down.

"I know," Harry declares softly. 

Niall stiffens, eyes wide – and he feels, rather than sees, Nick shift, looking from Harry to Niall and back again. _Fuck_ , Niall thinks.

"You two know each other?" Nick asks, seemingly perplexed.

Niall continues to stare at Harry, whose gaze never wavers. He wants to leap across the table, plant his hand over Harry's mouth and prevent the bloke from ever talking about The Stranger-

"We've met, briefly," Harry replies – and Niall finds himself holding his breath. “In passing” And, well, Harry’s not exactly lying about how they met.

“Wonderful, then! Let’s have another round, shall we?” Nick asks rhetorically, because none of them _really_ have a choice. Not even Harry, who laughs when Nick throws his arm up in the air to signal the bartender into giving them another round of pints. Whatever reason Harry had been here for in the first place, if he even had a reason, seems to no longer be important.

 

Harry’s at the bar, ordering a round of shots, when Niall approaches him. His hands are sweating, and there are butterflies in his stomach, which Niall pointedly ignores, and he wonders if maybe he shouldn’t do this – except, well, it’s going to bother him until he does.

“Hey,” he says, settling against the counter beside Harry.

“Hey, stranger,” Harry greets him back. He winks cheekily.

Niall rolls his eyes. “Listen, I want to thank you for not saying anything about the video earlier. None of them know about it, and I’d like to keep it that way. No offense."

 

Harry blinks. "What video?"

"Right," Niall smirks, which elicits a knowing, answering smirk to stretch across Harry’s lips as well. “Anyway, thank you.” 

"I mean, I told the truth, didn't I?" Harry points out. “We did meet in passing, technically.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Niall agrees.

The bartender, a tall bloke with broad shoulders and a crooked smile, approaches with a round tray of shot glasses full of clear liquid. Harry takes the tray, thanks the bloke behind the counter – his nametag reads Henry – both by voicing it and with a wink, which Niall looks away from quickly, and then urges for Niall to lead the way back to the booth everyone else is still occupying.

X

Two more drinks and a few more shots after that, Niall finds himself up on the small stage. The stage lights are bright and hot, the stool in the centre is a little too tall so he just winds up leaning back against it, and the guitar he’s got strapped over his shoulder doesn’t even belong to him. It belongs to another bloke, James _something_ , and he’s the one who’s actually supposed to be on stage tonight, not Niall. In fact, Niall doesn’t even really know how he got up here; he thinks, though, that it probably had to do with Nick and Fiona spearheading a chant.

The pub still isn’t that busy, but there is a bit of a crowd. Niall reckons most of them are James’ friends and family. Some of them are listening to Niall’s rendition of The Eagles’ _Love Will Keep Us Alive_ , but most of them are just chatting amongst themselves now that James is taking a break. Hell, not even his own table of friends (and acquaintances) is paying that much attention to him. The only person in the entire bar who still seems interested is, well, Harry.

Niall’s not quite sure what to think about that.

His impromptu concert only lasts about 10 minutes before James takes over once more. He thanks James, shakes James’ hand and tells him he has a great voice before he steps down off the stage and makes a beeline for the loo.

Which is where he runs into Harry, when he steps out of the stall to wash his hands.

"I didn't know you could sing – or play guitar,” Harry says, as he too washes his hands. “Not that I _would_ know, I just...” He trails off as he shakes his head a couple times, closes his eyes like he’s embarrassed. “You're really good."

"Thanks,” Niall murmurs. He can feel the blush spreading across his cheeks as he turns away from the sink to dry his hands under a dryer. “I taught myself, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, kind of. I watched videos on Youtube when I was kid,” Niall explains.

“Obviously you know The Eagles, but what else can you play?”

Niall shrugs. “Jason Mraz, Oasis – I’ve been really into Ed Sheeran lately, so I know _a lot_ of his songs too.”

Harry smiles softly, dimple appearing in his left cheek. “You like Ed Sheeran?”

“Love him, mate,” Niall gushes. “He’s a fucking legend.”

"I _could_ introduce you, if you want?”

Niall blinks. And then blinks again, mouth dry and scratchy like sandpaper. “You know Ed Sheeran? Like, on a personal level?”

“For a couple years now, yeah.”

“Not even Nick knows him well enough to say he could introduce me,” Niall breathes. “I mean, like, not that he knows how obsessed I am with Ed, because a radio DJ being obsessed with celebrities is a bit, like-“ he cuts himself off when he realizes he’s on a drunken ramble. “Not that I’m, like, overly obsessed with him, I just really like his new album. You can stop me from talking any time, mate…”

“I mean, I could introduce you – if you want,” Harry says again, shrugging his broad shoulders. “We could have a jam session or something... I mean, you don't have to, but-"

"No – I would love to," Niall says quickly. “Absolutely.”

Harry grins. “We’ll swap numbers. I’ll work something out with him, and let you know.”

“Thanks, mate,” Niall breathes. In fact, he feels sort of breathless – and 100 per cent overwhelmed. And he’s got a strange feeling that that feeling isn’t going to go away any time soon.

X

A harsh pat on Niall’s shoulder blade the following morning startles him out of his thoughts, which makes him kind of dizzy and nauseas. He’s tired, and he’s a little bit hungover, maybe even still a little bit drunk, having only had about three hours sleep – and Nick doesn’t look much different, except for the wide, mischievous grin plastered to his lips. Niall raises an expectant eyebrow at him as the rest of the staff files out of the boardroom; they’ve just gone over the schedule for the show today, and everyone (apart from Niall, it seems) is taking advantage of the five minutes before show time to take a break.

“What?” Niall urges impatiently.

“I watched a video this morning,” Nick drawls.

“Hm. Was it porn?”

Nick shrugs. “Not _entirely_ …”

“Nick,” Niall groans, rubbing his hands over his face. “I’m tired, I’m hungover, and you’re really not fucking helping- So if you could just-“

“Harry said that the two of you only met in passing,” Nick starts to explain, whilst leaning back against the large table in the centre of the room, “but I know of a little video that proves otherwise.”

Niall narrows his gaze, crosses his arms over his chest and tries to ignore the tight feeling in his chest along with the way his stomach churns. “Where’d you see it?”

“Youtube- Well, Twitter, actually,” Nick explains, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “The link was on my Twitter feed. It’s pretty much gone viral. Imagine my surprise in finding out that Tomlinson – and Malik – made it. And then imagine my surprise when you and Harry popped up on screen because last I’d heard, you’d only _‘met in passing’_.”

Niall feels like he’s about to throw up, like the ground is shifting beneath his feet. The only person in the world with a bigger mouth than Louis Tomlinson, is Nicholas Grimshaw. And talking about viral videos on the show is one of his favourite things to do, alongside torturing Niall. He’d really like the ground to open up and swallow him whole right about now. “Fuck…” he breathes, running a hand through his hair.

“If you’re worried about your boy seeing it, because I assume he hasn’t- Then I wouldn’t worry. He doesn’t pay much attention to social media, right?” Nick pauses, waits for Niall to nod, and then continues. “And the excitement surrounding the video in general will die down in a few weeks, it always does. I won’t even retweet it. Don’t worry about it, mate.”

And, yeah, Nick has a point. Ashton rarely ever uses social media. He hardly ever even goes on his own Facebook account. It’s virtually impossible for Ashton to just stumble across the video by accident. Which means maybe Nick is right. (Maybe Louis is too.) Maybe Niall doesn’t have anything to worry about. Maybe he’s been paranoid for nothing.

“Now, about the kiss-“

“You’re an arse, Grimshaw,” Niall mutters, rolling his eyes as he turns to exit the room. They’ve got 37 seconds to show time, though, so Nick follows anyway. “Besides, I don’t kiss and tell – even if there was something to tell. Which there isn’t.”

And, well, while it’s true that he doesn’t kiss and tell, it’s not entirely true that there isn’t anything to tell. He just isn’t about to tell Nick, regardless.

X

Interviewing The Lumineers is nothing, Niall decides, to spending the day playing guitar, singing, and more or less just having a full-on jam session with Ed Sheeran. In fact, interviewing celebrities in general pales to hanging out with and really, truly getting to know them. Niall learns things about Ed that he never would have learned during an interview, things you don’t learn through asking questions because they’re things you learn through time and experiences – and it’s something Niall’s going to remember for the rest of his life, probably.

Harry picks Niall four days after the night in the pub. It’s a Saturday. They arrive around lunchtime, and Ed offers up beer and hot dogs on the grill. Niall brings his own guitar, and Ed grabs another out of his living room, along with three more beers, and they retire to the backyard because it’s the first sunny say England has seen in weeks. It’s only May, and there is still a bit of a chill in the air, but they make due with long trousers and jumpers. Niall watches Ed play, marvels in the beauty of his voice; it kind of makes him want to just sink into the ground. And then Niall plays, and Ed beats his own guitar like it’s a drum and they both start to sing, and it’s _fun_.

A couple beers, three songs, and a lot of banter between Ed and Harry later, and Niall doesn’t feel nearly as anxious as he did the minute he walked through the door. In fact, he feels rather…comfortable. It feels like he could be 16 again, messing around with his mates, pretending like they could be rock stars.

One thing he learns, which answers a question that’s been burning in his mind since the night Harry offered to introduce him to Ed, is how _Harry_ and Ed met.

“I used to sleep on his friend’s couch,” is what Ed tells him. And, yeah, Niall remembers hearing about Ed’s sofa surfing days in numerous interviews. “One morning I woke up, and _he_ ,” he says, motioning towards Harry with his thumb, “was making breakfast in the kitchen. Which was weird, because he hadn’t been there when I’d fallen asleep.”

“I made him breakfast,” Harry say. “Eggy bread, eggs, sausage, and fruit salad.”

“I didn’t eat the fruit salad.”

“I wouldn’t have either,” Niall shrugs. “Fruit for breakfast is just…ridiculous.”

“Exactly!” Ed agrees. “He gets it! I win, finally.”

Harry scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Refusing to at least _try_ and eat healthy isn’t _winning_. It’s asking for a heart attack.”

Niall looks at Ed, who looks back at Niall, and there’s a silent pause before they both burst into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Ed doubles over and Niall flops onto his back in the grass, rests a hand on his stomach.

Harry frowns in response, picks sheepishly at a blade of grass. “I liked it better when you two didn’t know each other well enough to gang up me,” he says, which only makes them giggle harder. He tries to ignore them for as long as he can but, ultimately, they win – as Harry starts to giggle too.

 

No amount of preparation, despite Harry’s kind and generous words, could have ever prepared him for the moment Ed Sheeran agrees with Harry as they’re climbing back into Harry’s car – that Niall _‘might have missed his calling’_ , by being a radio DJ rather than a singer-songwriter.

X

Ashton is asleep when Niall gets in much, _much_ later than expected. Harry had told them that they’d only be staying for a few hours, because Ed had to get some of his affairs in order before hitting the road for his tour, but they’d all gotten slightly carried away – and now, all of a sudden, it’s 2 o’clock in the morning and Niall’s tip-toeing through his and Ashton’s flat in the dark.

Niall watches him for a moment from the doorway; watches the gentle rise-and-fall of Ashton’s chest as he breathes, and the slight flutter of Ashton’s eyelids as he dreams. It’s been a long, albeit amazing day, and he’s tired, and he’s still a little bit tipsy, and Niall honestly can’t remember the last time he’d had this much fun. He can’t remember the last time he’d felt this carefree, or this…content.

He’s quiet as he changes into a pair of boxers, careful not to wake his sleeping boyfriend as he crawls into bed behind him. He’s about to roll over, about to mold himself to Ashton’s back the way he always does, when his phone vibrates on the bedside table next to him.

It’s Harry. And the butterflies in his stomach come to life.

_‘Home, safe and sound. As promised.’_

And then: _‘I had a lot of fun, and I’d really like to hang out more. Xx’_

It’s like Niall’s heart jumps up into his throat, because suddenly there’s a lump there, and his chest feels light. _‘Me too,’_ he types. And he would. Not just because Harry has this undeniable energy about him, one which makes you want to know him and for him to know you, but because he…well, genuinely likes Harry. He’s sweet, and he’s kind, and he’s funny – although Harry definitely thinks he’s much funnier than he actually is, and he’s got one of those magnetic personalities that leaves you wanting more, perhaps without even realizing it.

 _‘You should invite me to meet more of your famous friends !’_ he adds a few seconds later.

_‘Says the one who interviews famous people for a living… I see how it is, though. You’re just using me.’_

Niall smirks, nibbles at the inside of his cheek. _‘Well of course . What else would I do with you?’_

_‘I could answer that… But I won’t ;) xx’_

He blinks at the screen, whilst his stomach flips over at the realization that Harry is _flirting_ with him – and then decides that that particular message would be better left unanswered. He cannot open that door. Not with Harry.

 _‘Goodnight Haz,’_ he texts back instead. _‘Glad you got home safe.’_


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "House-zilla?"
> 
> Niall snorts, rolls his eyes fondly. He feels bad for laughing but, well, it’s mostly true. "You're an idiot. How long have you been sitting on that?"
> 
> "Since last weekend."
> 
> Niall laughs, shakes his head because it’s so… _Harry_.
> 
> "In all honesty, Niall, I think Ashton's just...so _in love_ with you, you know” Harry starts – and there’s a certain seriousness to his voice now, where there wasn’t before. “He'd probably put a down payment down on a house he hasn't even seen in a heartbeat if you told him you really wanted it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading! :)

[Chapter Four]

 

_‘Why did the house go to the doctor?’_

Niall stares, perplexed, at the grey message bubble on the screen.

It’s Harry. And Harry’s got this thing, Niall has realized over the last few days since he last saw Harry, for _jokes_. Sometimes Harry’s jokes are funny, but most times, well, not so much. And yet, more often than not, Niall finds himself laughing anyway.

_‘Why,’_ Niall texts back. He smirks when he sees the little grey bubble pop up without so much as a beat, indicating that Harry’s typing his reply. He looks up, then, and watches Ashton listen intently to the man showing them around the otherwise empty house.

The man is a realtor. And the house that Niall and Ashton are currently being given a tour around is one Ashton found for sale online three days ago. It’s on the outskirts of London in Hertfordshire.

The house itself is beautiful. The outside is all old stone work, with a beautiful wood porch and a large front and backyard. The inside, meanwhile, is all old wooden frames and walls and ceiling beams. There’s a fireplace in the living room _and_ family room, the kitchen and both bathrooms are extremely old-fashioned, and there three bedrooms – a master bedroom in the front of the house, and two smaller rooms in the back. It actually reminds Niall of his grandmother’s house back in Ireland, and it’s lovely. It’s wonderful, actually.

It’s just, well, incredibly expensive for their price range. Which Niall would have pointed out the moment Ashton brought it up, if it weren’t for the look of absolute adoration on Ashton’s pretty face. Besides, seeing the house with Ashton is the least he can do.

Niall’s phone vibrates, and he looks down at the message.

_‘Because it had a window pane!’_

Niall snorts, rolls his eyes. _‘.... I'm going to de-friend you.’_

_‘It’s not very nice to lie, Niall.’_

“Niall,” Ashton calls out to him. “Come over here, I want to show you something.” His grin is wide, and beautiful, and there’s glimmer in his eyes.

Niall pockets his phone, makes a mental note to reply later. He feels calmer now than he did about 10 minutes ago when they’d first walked in. He’d felt a little bit overwhelmed earlier; not quite ready and a little bit anxious. But he feels better now, for whatever reason. (He knows exactly what – or _who_ – that reason is, he just refuses to acknowledge it because it isn’t a thing. It can’t be a thing.)

Ashton leads him away from the realtor and into the backyard, waits until the door closes behind them to turn to face Niall properly. “What do you think?”

“Honestly?” Niall asks, waits for Ashton to nod. “It’s way too expensive, Ash.”

Ashton frowns knowingly. “I know,” he sighs. “I just- I _love_ it.”

“Hey,” Niall murmurs, cupping his boyfriend’s face between his hands. “I know you do, it’s just way out of our price range and we can’t afford it. But there’s bound to plenty of other options, and some of them are probably just as beautiful as this place – within our budget.”

“You’re right,” Ashton nods, although he still looks a bit deflated. “I know. And- I know you were hesitant to come look at this place, probably because of how expensive it is, so thank you,” he murmurs, leaning in to press a chaste kiss against Niall’s lips. “Thank you for indulging me.”

Niall smiles back softly. “Of course, babe.”

X

He’s nursing a cold beer in his left hand, with his other hand shoved deep into the front pocket of his jeans, a few hours later. A collection of pictures on one wall of Harry’s living room next to the fire escape window, captures Niall’s eye and he walks over to observe them. The pictures are all black and white, all aesthetically pleasing and interesting, and… _beautiful_. There are landscape pictures – of Big Ben, and the London Eye, and pictures of people, a young woman (who looks just like Harry, he notices) laughing, an elderly couple walking hand-in-hand, and pictures of random, inanimate objects – a streetlight, a brick wall with a heart drawn onto the middle of it. 

“There you are,” Harry says when he enters the room, a glass of wine in one hand, his phone in the other.

“Did you take these?” Niall asks curiously.

“I did, yeah.”

“They’re amazing, Harry.”

Harry smiles softly, albeit shyly, as he scratches the back of his neck bashfully. “Thank you.”

“Did you study photography?”

“Not technically,” Harry replies. “It was either photography or writing, because obviously I couldn’t afford both. I chose writing, but a friend of mine is a photographer and he sort of took it upon himself to teach me the ins and outs of using a professional camera. Needless to say, I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to do after graduation. Was thinking about writing a book, but my friend also wants me to work at his studio, so…”

“Could always do a little bit of both,” Niall points out.

Harry shrugs, takes a sip of his wine as he plops down on the couch. "You never told me how your house hunting went,” he says, changing the subject.

"Hm? Oh, yeah, it was fine,” Niall replies offhandedly as he walks across the room to join Harry on the sofa. He kicks one leg up on the coffee table.

Harry quirks an eyebrow. " _Just_ fine?"

Niall shrugs as he takes a swig of his beer. "I mean, it wasn't what we're looking for, so..."

"What exactly are you looking for?"

"You'd have to ask Ashton about that, to be honest,” he says, because beyond their price range, Niall isn’t _exactly_ sure. “He's the one that has it all figured out."

"Do you have any other appointments lined up?"

"We were gonna book one for Sunday but it sold this morning. Why are you so interested?"

Harry shrugs. "I guess I just thought you'd be more excited. When my sister bought her house it was all she talked about. To the point where it actually got to be a bit annoying."

Niall doesn’t reply; doesn’t think he can truthfully say that he’s 100 per cent _excited_. Overwhelmed? Yes. Stressed out? Absolutely. Terrified? _So fucking terrified._

"Y-You're excited, right?" Harry asks softly, eyeing him curiously.

"Yeah- Yeah, I'm excited," Niall ends up saying – because he is. He _is_. Just not…entirely. Because he’s all kinds of _other_ things as well. But Harry doesn’t need to know that. Nobody does. _Especially_ not Ashton.

Even still, Niall hates how unconvincing that sounds even to his own ears. And he’s grateful that if Harry notices, he doesn’t say anything.

He’s even more grateful that Harry changes the subject – and for the distraction that hanging out with Harry provides him. Even if it is just to watch golf and have some drinks for a few hours.

It’s easy, is the thing. He doesn’t feel overwhelmed, or stressed out, or terrified at all, which is a welcome feeling. In fact, he feels incredibly at ease around Harry. Totally comfortable – which is a bit weird, he supposes, if he considers the fact that The Stranger Kiss was only a few months ago and, well, that was overwhelming and stressful in and of itself.

It’s just…different now, he thinks. Because he and Harry are _friends_ now, not just a couple of strangers that kissed one time. Because if anybody, namely Ashton, asks then Niall can truthfully and factually say that they’re just friends.

X

Niall’s brushing his teeth a few days later when Ashton runs another house by him. It’s late, and Niall’s tired, and he really doesn’t want to start talking about houses when he’s getting ready for bed to begin with…

This house is smaller, more affordable, and it looks equally as beautiful in the pictures. Simple, but beautiful. By the looks and sounds of it, the house could potentially be _The One_ , according to Ashton. (As terrifying a concept as that may be.) And Ashton really, really wants to go see it. Except that the only available slot to go see it is tomorrow morning and, well-

"Ash, I can't,” Niall sighs. “I have that interview in the morning with Katy Perry."

Ashton groans loudly. "Can't you reschedule?"

Niall blinks, stares at him through the mirror. "I don't have the authority to just reschedule interviews with the artists, Ashton,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief – because what is Ashton thinking? He rinses his toothbrush and then drops it into the holder next to the sink. “And even if I did, I couldn't, because she's booked solid all week. We're lucky we even got the interview for tomorrow."

"Well, what about Nick? He'd cover for you, yeah?"

Niall pauses, turns around to look at his boyfriend properly, grips the edge of the vanity counter behind him. "Ashton this is my job – it's my _dream_ job. I-"

Ashton frowns, looking deflated. "A morning appointment is the only thing I can book tomorrow though, Niall."

"Well...what about Friday? I can ask the boss today if I can have the morning off and-"

"Fine,” Ashton snaps, slapping his laptop shut. “Whatever."

Niall reaches out for him, but Ashton’s faster – turns on his heels and leaves Niall alone in the bathroom. 

The blond sighs, rubs both hands over his face in frustration. This is probably the most stressful part; this dealing with Ashton. He loves Ashton, and he’d like to make Ashton happy – it’s just…Ashton’s been getting quite crazy and pushy about it lately. And, okay, maybe Niall could be a little bit more helpful – and supportive – but it’s not Niall’s fault that he’s busy. They still have to work to make money to afford the place they’re _currently_ living in, after all.

X

The knock against his cubicle desk startles him, albeit only slightly. When he looks up, it’s to find Harry standing on the other side of the wall, arms folded over the top, with a goofy smile plastered to his stupid, beautiful face.

"Hey, Haz,” Niall says, smiling warmly. His stomach flips over happily, but that’s neither here nor there. “What are you doing here?"

"I had lunch with Grimmy,” Harry says, motioning with a flick of his chin to where Nick is standing at the opposite end of the room talking to Fiona. “Thought I'd swing by and say hello on my way out."

"That's thoughtful. But the exit is in the other direction, so it’s not exactly ‘on your way out’, is it?” Niall teases cheekily.

Harry rolls his eyes, though the smile twitching at his lips indicates he’s more amused than annoyed. 

"Would've been even more thoughtful if you'd invited _me_ for lunch too."

"In my defence, _Nicholas_ asked _me_."

Niall hums as he leans back in his chair, bouncing slightly. "Fair enough."

"You look troubled,” Harry observes, resting his chin on his arms as he pouts. “Why do you look troubled?"

Niall sighs, rubs at his temples. "Just..." He trails off, unsure of whether or not he should be talking about _why_ he’s troubled in public. He’s not even sure if he should be telling _Harry_ , despite the fact that Niall has talked to him about it in the past. They’re friends now, yes – as weird as it might feel sometimes, but Ashton doesn’t know him. Ashton’s never even met him (and it’s going to stay that way, for now) and Niall’s not entirely sure how that works. Are you even allowed to tell the bloke you kissed only a few months ago that you and your _long-term_ boyfriend are having issues?

"Work stuff? Because a little birdie told me that your interview with Katy Perry went exceptionally well." Harry’s grinning proudly from ear-to-ear, lips stretched wide with his teeth on display and a dimple poking into his cheek. Niall finds himself staring at Harry’s lips far too often. “Keep it up and you could have your own show, Horan.”

"Home stuff," Niall murmurs, picking at the edge of his desk as a weak smile tugs at his lips.

Harry frowns. "Oh."

Niall sighs. "Ashton wanted me to reschedule the interview today so that we could book an appointment for a house-viewing."

"You can't just reschedule an interview with an artist – only an artist can do that. Even _I_ know that."

"That's what I said. I told him I could try and take the morning off tomorrow, but I know he's still mad at me."

"He's probably just been stressing himself out, Ni,” Harry says softly, smiling reassuringly. “I wouldn't take it to heart."

"I know, it's just... It's like ever since we started looking at houses he's turned into this-"

"House-zilla?"

Niall snorts, rolls his eyes fondly. He feels bad for laughing but, well, it’s mostly true. "You're an idiot. How long have you been sitting on that?"

"Since last weekend."

Niall laughs, shakes his head because it’s so… _Harry_.

"In all honesty, Niall, I think Ashton's just...so _in love_ with you, you know,” Harry starts – and there’s a certain seriousness to his voice now, where there wasn’t before. “He'd probably put a down payment down on a house he hasn't even seen in a heartbeat if you told him you really wanted it."

Niall can't even deny that that's probably true.

"I think patience is the key-"

"What are you, a psychologist?" Niall snorts.

"Shut up."

"Oi, what the bloody hell are you still doing here, Harold?" Nick calls out, whilst walking towards them both. He claps Harry on the back when he reaches them.

"Came to see my _favourite_ DJ, didn't I?"

"Fuck you,” Nick says, though it lacks conviction. “Niall, mate, I've got a job for you. That means that you, Styles, need to get your lazy arse out of this building. Go to class, or something.”

"School is done for the year, _mum_ ,” Harry mutters, rolling his eyes. “I'll text you both later."

Niall follows Nick in one direction, whilst Harry heads in the other. He glances back at where Harry's standing at the end of the hall, phone in hand and face cast down to look at it – and Niall can't help but wonder if he would do the same thing Ashton would [probably] do if Niall did say he really wanted a house. If Ashton was adamant enough about it, desperate enough for it…would he agree to put a down payment on it without even seeing it? And how much is _‘enough’_?

X

Ashton is in the kitchen preparing dinner when Niall gets home that afternoon. He keeps his back to Niall, doesn’t even acknowledge him as he walks into the kitchen the way he usually does. There’s a tenseness in Ashton’s shoulders that Niall can see, and he hates it. Hates that he’s the one who put it there, even if it isn’t technically his fault.

"Hey, babe,” Niall says softly, fetching a water bottle out of the fridge. He comes up behind Ashton, frowns when Ashton stiffens under his touch before he drops his hand to his side. He was going to go for a kiss, but decides against it due to Ashton’s cold shoulder. “How was your day?"

"Fine."

Niall hums. "Did you make us an appointment for the house tomorrow morning?"

"The house sold today – to the couple who was able to take the morning appointment," Ashton mutters. There’s a bitter edge to his voice, and Niall knows why; Ashton blames him.

"Oh. Ash-“

"Dinner will be ready by the time you change and wash up,” Ashton says. And then he slips past Niall, out of the kitchen and into the living room. He sits himself in front of the telly, and pointedly ignores the fact that Niall is watching him from the doorway, arms crossed over his chest.

Niall sighs, because it’s going to be long night. 

Ashton avoids having to talk to him throughout dinner by turning up the volume on the TV when the news comes on. He sits a whole cushion away from Niall on the couch, keeps his gaze trained straight ahead the whole time. After he’s finished eating, he gets up without a word – or even a glance at Niall – and walks back into the kitchen.

That’s when Niall decides that he’s had enough. It’s one thing for Ashton to be mad at him – it’s something else entirely for Ashton to act like Niall doesn’t even exist, for something that isn’t _his_ fault.

"Stop," Niall demands as he walks into the kitchen behind him. He deposits his plate in the sink, and makes a mental note to wash it later. Later; when he isn’t about to have his first _real_ row with his boyfriend.

"Stop what?" Ashton asks innocently.

"Stop being mad at me for something I couldn't control. It wasn't my fault-"

"It's not just about the appointment _this morning_ , Niall!” Ashton yells suddenly, whirling around to face Niall with narrow eyes and furrowed eyebrows. “It's about every appointment I've ever made for us!"

And, oh- "What's that supposed to mean?"

Ashton sighs. "Do you even want to buy a house? Are you even _excited_?"

Niall blinks. His stomach drops. "Ash, of course I am-"

"Because it doesn't feel like it, Niall,” Ashton whispers. He sounds upset, and perhaps even a little bit scared. He looks it too. “It doesn't feel like you're looking forward to this at all. _I'm_ the one that's been doing all the work and-"

"Because you jumped right in and started _doing_ all the work,” Niall replies. “Because _you_ took over everything, and you barely gave me a chance to wrap my head around it, let alone a chance to keep up- You're like a fucking house-zilla or something."

Ashton rolls his eyes. " _House-zilla?_ Did you come up with that today? Or was it last week?"

"Ash-"

"Do you want to do this or not, Niall?"

"Of course I do,” Niall sighs. Because he does. This is the plan, it’s always been the plan – he just…would like to move at a bit of a slower pace, perhaps. Although, that’s not exactly something he would ever say to Ashton; if for no other reason than his own fear of having to answer why because, truthfully, Niall hasn’t quite figured that out yet.

"Then act like it, maybe?" Ashton asks rhetorically. His voice sounds so small, so hopeful, and Niall immediately feels guilty. Guilty for not being more present, more supportive. Guilty for ever making Ashton doubt him, or himself. Guilty, for getting cold feet. "Just- Show me I'm not in this alone."

"You're not, Ashton,” Niall says quickly, albeit softly. He can’t let Ashton down anymore. He closes the gap between them, slips his arms around Ashton’s waist and presses their foreheads together. He’s pleased when Ashton doesn’t even flinch this time. “You're not alone. Look, I have the morning off tomorrow, so let's- We'll spend it looking for houses, and making some appointments for next week... We'll find a house, Ash. I promise.”

Ashton nods, curls his arms around Niall’s neck and holds him there. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” Niall whispers back.

That’s something he’s always been sure of; loving Ashton. He’s always loved Ashton, has always wanted Ashton – has always wanted anything that ever came with loving Ashton. Niall _loves_ Ashton, wants a future with _Ashton_. Nothing – and _nobody_ – else should matter.


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Here, let me help,” Harry whispers, stepping towards him. Niall’s hands fall away and Harry’s takes their place. He’s quick to undo the first button, and then he also undoes the second one, just in case, but it feels as though it takes a lifetime.
> 
> Harry’s hands linger, fingertips grazing Niall’s collarbones just above where his chest hair starts – and Niall’s breath catches in his throat. (Which is ironic, considering…) He stares at Harry, gaze flickering between his beautiful, dilated green eyes and his pretty lips. Standing this close to Harry – close enough that Niall can feel Harry’s warm breath on his face, brings back a memory he’d been trying to forget from the moment it happened. The butterflies are alive in his stomach, his chest feels tight in a different way from before, and his heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his temples.
> 
> He could do it, he thinks. He could kiss Harry. He could kiss Harry – and Harry would kiss him back. Or, he could let Harry kiss him; could let Harry press him against the wall, could let his hands wander, could grind their dicks together and maybe come in their pants before going back inside. And nobody would know. Not even-

[Chapter Five]

 

Harry’s trying on his fourth blouse, doing up the button just above where his butterfly tattoo is placed on his abdomen, when Nick saunters back into Harry’s bedroom, a cuppa in hand. The shirt is nice – in fact it’s one of Harry’s favourites, it’s just not doing it for him. He feels a bit self-conscious, if he’s being honest, and he hates to acknowledge why. (The _why_ being the fact that he’ll be seeing _Niall_ in a couple of hours.)

"So let me get this straight,” Nick drawls as plops himself down on the end of Harry’s bed. He’s wearing a pair of shiny dress shoes, some black slacks, a black shirt and a grey suit jacket. He looks fairly well put together; as he should. “You're coming as my 'plus one', to a _BBC Radio 50th Anniversary_ party, so you can spend time with _Niall_. Thanks, mate."

"And _you_ , Grimms,” Harry replies, whilst in the midst of unbuttoning his blouse. “Don't be so negative."

Nick cocks a rather skeptical eyebrow. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What, being your 'plus one'?" Harry asks, sifting some more through his closet. Maybe he should tone it down, go with something a little bit…plainer than flowers or abstract patterns. Niall teases him, sometimes, about the shirts he wears, but he’s never outright made fun of or insulted Harry’s style. In fact, Niall was just wearing a white shirt with palm trees all over it like polka dots and, well, Niall might not want to admit that Harry’s growing on him – but Harry knows better. Still, though, he should probably tone it down a bit, if for no other reason that it’s a formal event. “ _You_ invited _me_. And only because Michael couldn’t make it, which is quite rude, if I’m honest.”

“Michael is my _boyfriend_ , Harold. He gets dibs, I don’t make the rules.”

“Clearly,” Harry scoffs, albeit playfully. “At least now I know who wears the pants in your relationship.”

“Excuse you!” Nick shouts incredulously. He finds the closest thing to him – an old, battered brown boot off the floor – and chucks it in Harry’s direction; he smirks when it hits Harry in the arse. “For the record, both of us wear the pants our relationship, and _neither_ of us wear pants.”

Harry pretends to gag. “That is way too much information.”

Nick shrugs. “You deserve it.”

A silence falls between them, during which Harry pulls out a salmon coloured, short-sleeve blouse with black and white zig-zags. It’s a patterned shirt, which Harry loves – which Harry knows Niall admires, but it’s still relatively toned down, he thinks. “You still haven’t told me why you think it’s a bad idea to be your plus-one, especially considering you did ask me.”

"I asked you before I realized exactly how much time you’ve been spending with Niall," Nick admits.

Harry rolls his eyes as he does up his shirt. "Nick, it's fine. _I'm_ fine."

"I'm not entirely sure that's true, Harry."

"Why not? I can handle it."

"You say that now, but I see the way you look at him and-"

"Nick, I'm _fine_ ,” Harry promises. Having decided on his shirt, he turns around to face Nick properly, rather than through the mirror hanging on his closet door. “Niall and I are friends. I can handle just being friends with him."

"Did you know he's bringing Ashton tonight?"

Harry nods, ignores the way his stomach churns at the sound of Ashton’s name. "I do know he's bringing Ashton and I'm looking forward to meeting him."

Nick snorts. "Why, so you can scope out the competition?"

“It’s not like I’m _in love_ with Niall, Nicholas,” Harry scoffs. “I just think he’s incredibly fit, and we get on really well. That’s _it_.”

“ _Just_? Because I’m pretty sure you want to bang him.”

Harry rolls his eyes. "Are you even ready?” he asks, changing the subject quickly. It’s not like he can truthfully deny Nick’s statement anyway, so it’s easier to just ignore it all together. “Your hair’s a bit of a mess."

"Pot calling the kettle black,” Nick drawls tantalizingly, as he pushes himself to his feet. “Been ready for ages, mate."

Harry hangs back in his bedroom for a moment after Nick leaves to collect himself. Nick is entirely right, is the thing. Going to this party because Niall is going is probably a terrible idea – because what if he says or does something he regrets? Hell, spending as much time as he’s been spending with Niall is probably a really bad idea, considering the butterflies in his stomach seem to multiply exponentially every time he sees Niall. He just…can’t help it.

X

It’s BBC Radio’s 50th anniversary, and everyone from the station’s producers and tech guys, to artists like Sam Smith and Rita Ora are in attendance for the big night. The Roundhouse is packed from wall to wall, so much so that it sort of reminds Niall of the many uni parties that he and Ashton used to go to – which is silly, if you consider that a uni party is not at all like an industry party. It’s two totally different atmospheres, first of all. Not to mention two completely different crowds. And different venues.

All in all, the party is going well so far. There’s been a great turn out, great food, great music. There’s just a minor detail that Niall hadn’t taken into consideration earlier this evening, which is one thing that used to get to him at house parties sometimes too. Niall’s claustrophobic, is the thing. He hates small spaces, hates it when there’s too many people even if the space the crowd is occupying is a decent size. The Roundhouse isn’t _small_ , per say, but there are a lot of people, and it’s loud, and it’s hot, and-

"Niall!"

Niall turns his head, and a sense of relief washes over him when he sees Harry weaving through crowds of people. The butterflies in his stomach also come to life, but his heart swells up in his chest, but- "Harry, hey!"

"Where's Ashton?" Harry wonders, looking around when he reaches Niall.

"He had to work late, but he's coming after,” Niall explains quickly. “Listen, can you come out back with me?”

Harry blinks in confusion, but nods his head anyway. “Um, yeah, of course-“

Niall grabs Harry’s hand, grips it tight as he leads the way towards the opposite end of the auditorium to where the back door is, underneath the bright red ‘EXIT’ sign. He shoves the door open, and all but throws himself (and Harry) through the door. Only when he lets go of Harry’s hand does he miss the warmth, though he doesn’t let himself dwell on it. Instead, he leans back against the wall, tilts his head back to open his airways so that it’s easier to breathe.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks, and there’s a sense of urgency in his voice, like he’s worried. “Do you need anything? Water? A chair-“

“No, I’m- It’s okay,” Niall says, shaking his head once as he closes his eyes. “I just…get claustrophobic sometimes, it’s not a big deal.”

“Do you want to leave? I can call Ashton for you, or we could get you a car, or-“

Niall lifts his head, then, and looks at Harry properly. Harry, whose eyes are wide and concerned. Harry, who looks like he’s about five seconds from having a panic attack, himself. “I’m fine, Harry. I just needed some air.”

“But if you’re claustrophobic-“

“I’ll be fine,” Niall chuckles, albeit it sounds a bit stressed, even to his own ears. “I just, for whatever reason, wasn’t expecting this many people, that’s all. I’m new to this, y’know.”

Harry nods. “Right. Okay. Do you need anything though? I can get some water, or something. A beer to take the edge off, maybe? I don’t know how it works, but-”

Niall snorts. “I’m fine, Haz. Just- Stay with me, yeah?”

“Yeah- Yes, of course,” Harry murmurs, with a nod of his head. He reaches out to squeeze at Niall’s shoulder with his hand. “Anything you need, Niall.”

Niall smiles appreciatively. All Niall really needs is some air, and a few minutes to let the ball of anxiety sitting in his chest unravel. He reaches for his collar, wants to undo the button on his white shirt, but his hands are shaking too much and-

“Here, let me help,” Harry whispers, stepping towards him. Niall’s hands fall away and Harry’s takes their place. He’s quick to undo the first button, and then he also undoes the second one, just in case, but it feels as though it takes a lifetime.

Harry’s hands linger, fingertips grazing Niall’s collarbones just above where his chest hair starts – and Niall’s breath catches in his throat. (Which is ironic, considering…) He stares at Harry, gaze flickering between his beautiful, dilated green eyes and his pretty lips. Standing this close to Harry – close enough that Niall can feel Harry’s warm breath on his face, brings back a memory he’d been trying to forget from the moment it happened. The butterflies are alive in his stomach, his chest feels tight in a different way from before, and his heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his temples.

He could do it, he thinks. He could kiss Harry. He could kiss Harry – and Harry would kiss him back. Or, he could let Harry kiss him; could let Harry press him against the wall, could let his hands wander, could grind their dicks together and maybe come in their pants before going back inside. And nobody would know. Not even-

Ashton.

Niall clears his throat abruptly, and looks away quickly. And Harry must get the message, because he drops his hands to his sides and takes a step backwards, away from Niall.

Niall tries not to miss him even though he’s standing right there.

“Better?” Harry asks softly.

“Yeah,” Niall breathes. “Thank you.”

Harry nods, more to himself than to Niall. “I think I’ll go get a drink. Do you want one?”

“Yeah, I’ll have-“

“A Guinness,” Harry finishes, with a small smirk. “Got it.”

Niall watches him head back inside. And only when the door closes behind him, does Niall sigh. He leans back against the wall once more, lets his head fall back against the brick with a groan. What has he just gotten himself into? What is it about Harry that turns his brain to mush and makes his mind wander at the same time?

X

Niall’s walking back from the loo, heading in the direction of where he’d left Harry and Nick talking at one of the numerous stand-up tables inside the auditorium, when realizes that the man Harry’s talking to is not Nicholas Grimshaw. This man is just a bit shorter than Nick, and about the same height as Harry. His shoulders are wide, and even beneath his suit jacket, he looks…well built. He’s got short, brown hair styled into a small quiff, and fair bit of facial hair across his jaw. He’s definitely fit. And definitely, Niall would think, Harry’s type. The thought makes his stomach churn, but Niall approaches anyway; call it morbid curiosity.

“Hey, you’re back,” Harry smiles in greeting as Niall comes to stand beside him. “Nick said he’ll talk to you later, but I’d like for you to meet someone. Niall, this is Liam; Liam, this is the bloke I was just telling you about.”

“Hi,” Liam greets cheerfully. “Nice to meet you.”

Niall smiles. “You too.”

“So you work with Nick? You poor soul,” Liam comments with a teasing smirk.

“I do,” Niall smirks. “I take it you know him as well?”

“For a few years now, yeah. Through Harry, actually.”

Niall nods, shoves his hands into the front pocket of his trousers.

“Anyway, my girlfriend is around here somewhere and I should probably go find her,” Liam says, albeit distractedly, as he’s already looking around the venue. “There she is – on the dancefloor.”

“Should have known,” Harry muses.

“Should have,” Liam agrees. He claps Harry on the shoulder before promptly bringing him into a tight hug. “It was nice seeing you again, Harry. Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” Harry nods, and then Liam turns to face Niall, sticks his hand out for a shake, which Niall accepts. “And it was nice to meet you, Niall.”

“You too.” Niall watches him leave, watches him approach a tall, leggy, long-haired brunette. She’s stunning, and Niall can see the pure adoration as she whirls around to greet her boyfriend. At least there’s that.

"Do you want to hear a story?" Harry asks, lips ghosting the shell of Niall’s ear.

Niall shivers as goose pimples spread up and down his arms. "Sure."

"I've hooked up with Liam."

Niall raises an eyebrow, turns to face him.

"And Sophia."

"No way,” Niall scoffs disbelievingly.

Harry smirks smugly. "At the same time."

Niall blinks. And then blinks again, because- What? " _At the same time_ – what, like a threesome?"

"Not 'like' a threesome, Niall,” Harry drawls with a wave of his hand. “Just a threesome. Or, like, seven."

Niall swallows around a lump in his throat. "A-and they were okay with that?"

"Well, obviously," Harry shrugs.

"I can't believe you've had threesomes."

"I can't believe you _haven't_ ,” Harry scoffs, swinging an arm around Niall’s shoulders. “Then again, Ashton's the only guy you've ever been with, right, so I guess I'm not that surprised."

Niall looks at him incredulously, eyebrows furrowed. "Are you, like, doing the _opposite_ of slut-shaming me right now?"

"That would be called prude-shaming – and yes," Harry says matter-of-factly, teasingly. He’s not, not really.

The blond rolls his eyes, shrugs Harry off of him. Not because he’s offended, just because, well, he’s not entirely sure that Harry being this close to him right now is a good idea. "Just because I've never been a slut, doesn't mean I'm a prude."

Harry quirks a curious eyebrow. "No?"

"No."

"So what are you into, then?" the brunette asks, folding his arms across his chest. He looks simultaneously smug and expectant.

"What do you mean?"

Harry laughs. "You're such a prude, Niall," he teases, patting Niall on the shoulder. 

Niall swats Harry’s hands away with his own, and then glares at him. "I'm not a prude."

"Then prove it."

Niall knows he doesn’t have to prove it, knows that Harry would never _make_ him prove it. Still, though, Niall has this sudden urge to do just that. He has half a mind to stick his tongue down Harry's throat to do so – and Harry looking like he's encouraging him isn’t exactly helping.

He could do it. He could reach out, grab Harry by the collar of his stupid, patterned blouse, and _kiss him_. He could prove that he isn’t a prude.

 

"Niall!"

The blond whirls around, then, at the familiar voice to find Ashton making his way through the crowd. And Niall’s stomach drops. "H-Hey, babe," he says, bringing his boyfriend into a hug the moment Ashton reaches him. He squeezes tightly.

"I'm so sorry I'm late,” Ashton apologizes after he’s pulled back. He presses a chaste kiss against Niall’s lips, and then makes to continue. “My boss-"

"Hey, it's ok,” Niall insists, smiling softly. He runs a hand through Ashton’s hair, pushes his fringe back away from his face. “I get it – and you’re here _now_ , anyway."

Ashton smiles back, and then begins to look around. He’s about to make a comment, and then pauses when his gaze lands on Harry. "You must be Harry."

Niall’s heart jumps into his throat, his stomach churns, and his palms immediately start to sweat. He knew this would happen. He knew that, eventually, Ashton would have to meet Harry, and he knew that tonight would more than likely be the night – and yet, he still feels incredibly unprepared. His long-term boyfriend is meeting the boy he kissed only a few months ago, couldn’t stop thinking about for weeks after, and still very much would like to kiss again, apparently… And his long-term boyfriend doesn’t have a clue. (And he’ll never have one, if Niall can help it.)

"I am, hi,” Harry says, smiling politely. He sticks his hand out for Ashton to shake, which Ashton does graciously. “You're obviously Ashton. I've heard a lot about you."

Ashton grins, looking at Niall. "Good things, I hope."

Harry nods. "Likewise."

Niall snorts. "What good things?" Realistically speaking, Niall doesn’t really talk about Harry. He’s mentioned Harry in passing (mostly in terms of Nick, as _Nick’s_ friend), and he’s had to tell Ashton that he was going over to Harry’s for drinks a few times – but he’s never actually _spoken_ about Harry – certainly not in the way that Niall talks to Harry about Ashton. The less Ashton knows about Harry, the better.

Harry rolls his eyes, despite the smile playing on his face. His gaze flickers, then, to where Ashton’s hand is resting on Niall’s hip. It’s only a flicker, barely even noticeable, but Niall see it and-

That's when Niall gets an idea. "Hey, Ash,” starts, lowering his voice as he turns to look at his boyfriend, “want to come with me to the loo?"

"What? But I was going to get a drink,” Ashton says, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to where the bar is located.

Niall looks up at Ashton with pleading, suggestive eyes. He bats his eyelashes for good measure, and curls one hand around the lapel of Ashton’s jacket. "Please?"

Ashton blinks, and fumbles out a ‘yes’ once he’s caught on.

Niall excuses them both, then, with a promise to catch up with Harry later, before slipping his hand into Ashton’s and tugging him towards the bathrooms. He barely gets the door closed, and locked – because this is the equivalent of a _work_ party, and Niall isn’t that into voyeurism – before Ashton’s got him pressed up against the wall, hand down the front of his pants.

 

Meanwhile, Harry tries to ignore the fact that Niall looked back at him before he dragged Ashton around the corner and disappeared down the corridor. If he does that by downing a shot of tequila – and then another – then nobody has to know. He’s pretty sure Nick knows, though, if the sympathetic look on his face when Harry finds his gaze through the crowd is anything to go by.

X

Niall avoids Harry after that. In fact, he also kind of avoids Ashton – which is okay, if only because Ashton seems to have struck up a rather interesting conversation with one of Niall’s co-workers, a tech guy named Luke. Besides, Niall’s pretty sure that Harry is avoiding him in return, by whispering (and giggling and drinking) in the corner of the room with _both_ Liam and Sophia.

He feels awful, is the thing.

It’s not like he’s never sucked Ashton off – or let Ashton suck him off – in a public bathroom before. Nor is it the fact that they may have been more than a little bit obvious, by coming out of the loo at the same time. It’s that Niall’s never done it out of spite before. He’s never dragged Ashton into a bathroom to spite someone else. And that’s not even the worst part. Letting Ashton suck him off in the bathroom, in the middle of BBC Radio’s 50 Anniversary party, out of spite – and not just because he wanted to please and be pleased by his own boyfriend, isn’t worst part.

The worst part, by far, is that Niall doesn’t even know why he did it. Is it because he merely wanted to prove, to Harry, that he isn’t a ‘prude’? Or is it because he wanted to try and make Harry feel as jealous as Niall felt after finding out about Liam and Sophia?

And if it’s the latter, then- Why? How? How could he possibly be jealous of Harry’s relationships with other people? Why does he want Harry to feel jealous in return? Why would he use his _boyfriend_ to do it?

What the fuck is he doing? And where the fuck is this coming from?

A hand on his shoulder, and a murmured, “Hey,” pulls him out of his thoughts, and he turns around to face the source of the voice. Harry.

Harry, who’s hair is a mess, curling out every which way, a few tendrils sticking to the side of his sweaty neck. Harry, who’s now wearing a jacket he hadn’t been wearing before. "So, I'm heading out," he says nonchalantly.

Niall follows Harry’s gaze as the brunette looks behind himself – to where Liam and Sophia are lingering at the front exit, jackets on. "Yeah, I see that."

Harry shrugs. "It's been awhile since I got laid,” he replies, looking at Niall. There’s a beat of silence between them – during which Niall tries to concentrate on the green of Harry’s irises, and not on the way his heart skips a beat in his chest – before he continues, “Been even longer since I got laid _twice_ in one night – or at the same time. However you want to look at it."

"Well, you're right on your way to righting all of those wrongs, then."

"I mean, I'd offer to go home with _you and Ashton_ instead but...you know," Harry breathes.

And, yeah, Niall knows. He knows that Ashton would never go for a threesome, even if Niall had the balls to ask him. What he doesn’t know, however, is whether or not _he’d_ go for a threesome.

He ignores the way his heart clenches in his chest when Harry smiles sadly, ignores the way his stomach flips over at the thought of Harry not going home alone, or not even going home at all. Instead, he smiles and shrugs his shoulders – and pretends that he isn’t bothered by the idea of Harry being with someone else. "Have a good night, Harry,” he murmurs.

Harry nods, lingers for a moment like he wants to say something else, and then seemingly decides against it before he leaves. He doesn’t look back – and Niall tries not to let that bother him too.

He also hates that he _still_ feels jealous.

X

Ashton trips as they come off the lift, and Niall struggles to catch his flailing body before he crashes face first into the floor. He’s all giggles, and flushed cheeks as Niall supports his weight on his right shoulder all the way down the corridor to where their front door is located. He looks, and seems, and sounds happier than Niall has seen him in, well, weeks. He looks beautiful, shines bright, talks loud – and Niall doesn’t have the heart shush him lest he wake the neighbours. He’d rather just sent them some cupcakes or something if they complain.

Needless to say, Niall stopped drinking after Harry left the party, having no longer been in the partying mood, Irishman or not, and Ashton did not.

Niall continues to support and guide drunk, giggly Ashton all the way through the flat. He encourages Ashton to sit on the edge of the bed, helps Ashton take off his shoes and strip out of his clothes.

"Let's bang!" Ashton suggests enthusiastically, grin splitting his face open as he lies back, whilst Niall pulls a sock off each of Ashton’s feet.

Niall snorts as he tosses everything except Ashton’s boxers, which is the only piece of clothing he leaves on Ashton’s body, into the hamper. "Don't say 'bang'."

"Let's fuck, then."

"That's really crude of you,” Niall laughs, despite himself. “I'm more than just a good fuck, you know."

Ashton grins as he pushes himself up, braces himself with a hand planted into the mattress on either side of him. He looks rather adorable, Niall has to admit – even if he is literally trying to _seduce_ Niall. "Then let's _make love_."

Niall brushes a hand through Ashton's hair. "I'd love to, Ash, but you're far too drunk."

"Nu-uh! 'm fine, I pr'mise," Ashton slurs. He looks a little to cheeky to be serious.

"Babe, you were falling asleep on my shoulder in the cab ride here."

Ashton closes his eyes and shakes his head.

"You're falling asleep right now."

"'m not," Ashton murmurs, despite the fact that flops back onto the bed again, eyes still closed.

Niall rolls his eyes fondly. "I'll make you a deal,” he says softly, lifting Ashton’s legs up onto the bed. “You lay down with your head on the pillow and if you're still awake when I get back with a glass of water for the morning, we'll _bang_."

"Deal.” Ashton’s voice is barely even audible as Niall leaves the room. 

 

He’s asleep when Niall gets back, as Niall knew he would be, so he puts the glass on the bedside table on Ashton's side of the bed. He strips down to his own boxers, leaves his phone on his own beside table, and crawls into bed beside him. He curls an arm around Ashton's waist, pulls Ashton gently against him, buries his nose in Ashton's hair and breathes him in.

And even though he shouldn’t, even though he doesn’t want to, he thinks about Harry, and the fact that he's probably still getting laid right now. And then he thinks that it's probably best if he doesn't think about Harry. At all. Ever again.

Because Harry isn’t his boyfriend, and Ashton is. And because he needs to get his shit together before he _loses_ his boyfriend.


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thing is, Niall was never quite sure what to say in all the times he’d sat, twirling his phone in his hand every time he thought about it. He wasn’t sure how to approach Harry, or even how to talk to him, after what happened at The Roundhouse. And he still isn’t sure what Harry’s reasoning for not contacting Niall is, but he reckons it’s probably something along the same lines, given how the night ended.
> 
> He contemplates not answering it at all. It would be easy. It might even be ideal; cut all ties to Harry, walk away now before things have a chance to get [more] complicated. Except, well, Niall can’t imagine not ever talking to Harry again. They get on really well as mates, is the thing. They have a lot in common, they have fun together, they get each other… They’re just good together, as mates, and Niall’s not sure how to give that up, despite…whatever else seems to be going on between them. He just needs to put his foot down, that’s all; he needs to keep things strictly platonic, needs to not think about Harry like _that_. He can do that. He can still be friends with Harry and not _think_ about Harry. Why couldn’t he?

[Chapter Six]

_Morning! Nick told me you have an interview with Rita Ora today. I know it'll be great, but good luck. Xx_

 

Niall stares at the message for a long time. It’s been nearly a whole week since he’s heard from Harry, since either of them, if he’s being honest, has tried to contact the other. The thing is, Niall was never quite sure what to say in all the times he’d sat, twirling his phone in his hand every time he thought about it. He wasn’t sure how to approach Harry, or even how to talk to him, after what happened at The Roundhouse. And he still isn’t sure what Harry’s reasoning for not contacting Niall is, but he reckons it’s probably something along the same lines, given how the night ended.

He contemplates not answering it at all. It would be easy. It might even be ideal; cut all ties to Harry, walk away now before things have a chance to get [more] complicated. Except, well, Niall can’t imagine not ever talking to Harry again. They get on really well as mates, is the thing. They have a lot in common, they have fun together, they get each other… They’re just good together, as mates, and Niall’s not sure how to give that up, despite…whatever else seems to be going on between them. He just needs to put his foot down, that’s all; he needs to keep things strictly platonic, needs to not think about Harry like _that_. He can do that. He can still be friends with Harry and not _think_ about Harry. Why couldn’t he?

He's about to respond, thumbs hovering over the keyboard on the screen, when Ashton enters the bathroom. Instead of actually responding, however, he locks the phone quickly, and places it on the counter nonchalantly. 

Ashton’s still half asleep. He blinks rapidly, groans as he shields his eyes from the light above them as he squeezes past Niall to get to the toilet.. 

"Who the bloody hell are you texting at half six in the morning?" Ashton grumbles as he stumbles past Niall to the toilet.

Niall shrugs, grabs his phone off the counter and slips it in the back pocket of his skinny jeans. "Nobody. What are you doing up? I thought you weren't going in until the afternoon today."

"Mum called late last night,” Ashton murmurs through a yawn whilst he pees. “She’s down for the weekend visiting a friend so she wants to get breakfast and talk about the house. She was hoping you would be there too, but I told her you had to work."

_The house._ As in, the _house_ that Ashton and Niall put a down payment on two days ago. Ashton had rushed into the flat after work a couple days after the party, gasping as though he’d taken the stairs up four floors, only to thrust a brochure into Niall’s hand. It had been a brochure for the house, which he’d seen pinned to a bulletin board in the coffee shop down the street. He’d then spent the following five minutes begging Niall to see _the house_ the next day and, well, Niall couldn’t say no to the puppy dog eyes Ashton had given him. All Niall had to do was leave work a little bit early.

The house is beautiful. Perfect. Homey. And just within their price range.

It’s all brown brick, and tudor style windows, and a round bay window on both floors, and a big front porch, above which sits a balcony off the master bedroom. The kitchen is spacious, with lots of cupboard space, which is perfect because both Ashton and Niall like to cook, and the dining room is large, and can probably handle a table to sit ten people. The living room and family room are combined on the other side of the main level, and there’s a fireplace in the living room. Upstairs, there’s the master bedroom, the main bathroom, and two other bedrooms. Above that is the attic, which can either be used as a storage room, or a third bedroom. There’s a garden in the front yard, and backyard – and the backyard is large enough that they could do pretty much anything they want with it. There’s even a _white picket fence_.

It’s perfect for them – for the present, and for the future. For starting and raising a family.

Ashton had fallen in love with it before they’d even gotten there, and after seeing it, after picturing them living there, Niall couldn’t say ‘no’. Nor is there a _valid_ reason for him to want to say ‘no’.

"Sorry,” Niall frowns in response. It’s been a while since they’ve seen Liz, and Niall always enjoys her visits. It’s just bad timing this time around, that’s all.

"'s ok," Ashton murmurs, pressing a kiss to the tip of Niall's shoulder. He sneaks in front of Niall to wash his hands, before he turns around to turn the water on in the tub. "Next time."

"Next time," Niall agrees before he turns to leave the bathroom. 

"Oh, hey, I forgot to tell you,” Ashton says, reaching a hand out. His fingers graze Niall’s bicep, as the blond turns back around. “ I ran into Louis at the grocery store the other day."

"Yeah?"

"He misses you. Says he hasn't you in weeks."

"It has been a while," Niall agrees. And, actually, now that he’s thinking about it, it’s been a long while since they’ve seen each other. It’s also been at least a few days since either of them have texted one another.

"You should get together with him, go for lunch or something," Ashton suggests.

Niall snorts. "Since when do you care about _Louis_."

Ashton shrugs. "I don't. I care about you."

"Fair enough. Since when do you _want_ me to hang out with Louis?"

"Oi, I'm not that bad," Ashton says defensively, swatting the back of his hand against Niall’s arm. He can’t keep a straight face to save his life, though, so he ends up laughing anyway. “And I don’t even think _he’s_ that bad, to be fair.”

Niall rolls his eyes playfully, leans in to press a chaste kiss against Ashton’s cheek.

"I just think – you haven't seen him in a while and that it would be good, you know?” Ashton explains. “I know I’ve been riding your ass lately with the house hunting stuff, and-“

“No, hey, Ash,” Niall protests, shaking his head as he slips an arm around his boyfriend’s waist. “It’s- Don’t worry about it. I got it then, I get it now, just… It’s fine.”

“You’ve just seemed kind of down lately, and I think you should call him, that’s all.”

Not only can Niall not bring himself to deny that he’s been kind of ‘down lately’, but he can’t even tell Ashton the truth about why. Well, he could, except what’s he going to say? _‘So, that new friend I have, Harry, we haven’t talked all week because I took you to the bathroom to hook up just to make him jealous and then he went and had a threesome to make me jealous and now I’m not even sure if he’ll want to talk to me after finding out that you and I just bought a house together.’_ – Because that would go over well.

"Yeah, no, I know,” Niall murmurs. “And I will. Tomorrow, maybe. Or tonight for dinner, since you’ll be at work."

Ashton winks and grins at him. "Now you're thinking."

Niall laughs in response, pushes gently at Ashton’s shoulder. "Get in the shower, you stink.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have to go, I'll see you later."

Ashton grabs at the front of Niall’s shirt and pulls him in for a kiss. A proper one, this time. A long, loving one. "Love you."

Niall smiles softly. "Love you too."

It’s when he’s in the car, sitting at a red light that he realizes that Ashton never wished him good luck for his interview. He tries not to let it bother him, because it really shouldn’t be that big of a deal – Ashton’s had a lot on his mind lately with the house, after all – except, well, he hadn’t even told Harry about it, (which means that Nick must have) and even Harry made a point of texting him, despite the two of them not being on talking terms.

X

Louis’ holding a case of Peroni, when Niall opens the door.

"You read my mind."

"Of course I did, I'm a genius," Louis says smugly. “Now let me in, this is getting heavy.”

Niall does as he’s told. He steps aside to let Louis slip past before closing the door behind him – and then, since Louis doesn’t really know what a closet is, he picks up Louis’ shoes and places them inside of the front closet for him. "Where's Zayn?" he asks a minute later, as he joins Louis’ in the kitchen.

Louis shrugs. "He might be doing art stuff. I dunno, I wasn't really listening – and since he broke up with Perrie, he‘s sort of dropped off the face of the earth. Kind of like you, except you didn’t break up with your boyfriend, by the sounds of it. Not that _you_ bothered to tell me."

“Sorry, bro,” Niall mutters, accepting the bottle Louis hands him. He twists the cap off and takes a [much needed] sip. “There’s been a lot going on lately.”

They wind up in the living room a moment later. Louis takes over the TV, and half the couch, as per usual – not that Niall minds. They usually just end up watching football anyway.

"So how's Harry?" Louis asks, gaze trained on the telly as he ‘searches’ through the channels.

Niall blinks, mid-sip of his beer. He pauses, and swallows what’s in his mouth before he can respond. "How do you know about Harry?" he asks curiously, albeit a bit suspiciously. He doesn’t remember ever telling Louis that he’s been hanging out with Harry.

Louis glances sideways at Niall. "Ashton mentioned that you've been hanging out with a curly-haired bloke named Harry lately and the only curly-haired bloke you know named Harry is _Harry Styles from Cheshire_. At least, I’m pretty sure. Unless there’s a different Harry, in which case-"

"Why would he tell you that?" Niall asks, brows furrowed in confusion.

Louis shrugs. "How am I supposed to know? I don't speak 'Ashton'."

If he’s honest, Niall feels a bit like he's been set up, but he keeps it to himself. For now. The question is, though: _why?_

"At least I know I'm not the only one you've been blowing off for someone else."

"Oi! It's not like you've been going out of your way to contact me either,” Niall points out.

"I've been busy."

"So have I."

 

Silence falls between then just as Louis settles on the game between Manchester and Doncaster. Niall finds that he has to hold back the urge to tell Louis that Manchester is Harry’s favourite team. 

He’s not quite sure what to make of the fact that Ashton and Louis have been talking about him – especially about _him and Harry_. Could Ashton be suspicious? And if so, then why? Niall’s not done or said anything to rouse any kind of suspicion where Ashton is concerned – because as far as Ashton is concerned, Harry is more _Nick’s_ friend than he is Niall’s anyway.

"Look, Nialler,” Louis starts, and the sudden seriousness in his voice is a bit startling, “I'm not trying to fight but...are you sure that hanging out with Harry is a good idea?"

Niall sighs as he rolls his eyes. "We're just friends."

"That's not what I asked."

"Then what are you asking me, Louis?" Niall snaps. He feels defensive, all of a sudden. Because who is Louis to be concerned about whom Niall hangs out with?

Louis sighs. "Is it a _good idea_ , Niall? Seeing as you, y'know, kissed him and all."

"First of all, there's no 'and all' – it was _just a kiss_ ,” Niall reminds him, eyebrows furrowed as he glares at Louis. “And second, it doesn't matter. I'm happy with Ashton and Harry’s happy...sleeping with strangers and having threesomes with his friends."

Louis frowns. "So it _is_ a bad idea, then."

"We're just friends."

Louis cocks an eyebrow. "How many times are you gonna tell yourself that in order to believe it?"

"Just- Don't, Lou, alright? I'm happy, Harry and I are friends, and that's the end of it."

"Are you, though?” Louis asks softly. This time he actually sounds a bit concerned. “ _Happy_ , I mean? Because it seems to me like you've been dragging your feet with Ashton – more so, even, ever since you kissed Harry."

Niall groans in frustration, runs a hand through his hair. "Harry and I are just friends. And I literally just bought a house with Ashton."

Louis rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine. You're _just_ friends."

“Exactly.”

Louis leans back against the back cushion of the couch, and places his beer bottle between his legs. "Now just keep telling yourself that, mate, and you'll believe it in no time."

"You know, it's times like this when I really do wonder why I'm even friends with you," Niall mutters, lifting his own bottle to his lips to take a sip.

"You love me, shut up."

" _You_ shut up," Niall grumbles. “Arse.”

They spend the next little while in silence, simply watching the game. Every now and then either, or both, of them shout something at the TV. When Niall gets up to get another beer, he takes Louis’ empty with him too, and brings back a second beer for Louis at the same time. It’s not like they’re actually in a fight, it’s just, well…Louis is kind of being an ass, and he’s usually best left alone until he stops being one.

"How's El?" Niall asks, when the game stops for a break. He’s since brought out the crisps, which they’re both eating from the bag.

"I thought you wanted me to shut up."

Niall whips a beer bottle cap at him in response.

Louis flinches when it hits him right on the shoulder. "Ow, Jesus, Niall! Eleanor's great, there's no need to get violent."

Niall snorts. "You're _such_ an arse."

"Takes one to know one,” Louis teases. He braces himself for another attack, but nothing comes. “No but seriously,” he says as he lowers his arms, and digs a hand into the bag settled between them for another crisp, “she's great. The fashion thing is really picking up for her."

"Yeah, I saw some of her pictures on Instagram,” Niall remembers. “Good for her."

"I'm good too, y'know. I'm great, actually.”

"I didn't ask."

Louis whips the cap back at Niall and smirks when it hits Niall on the cheek. "I'm thinking about making a film."

Niall quirks an eyebrow, because now he’s genuinely interested. " _A film?_ "

"Like, an indie film or whatever, you know?"

"Amateur, more like," Niall teases.

Louis rolls his eyes. 

"That's good though, mate. It’s a step up from making strangers kiss each other for no reason. You should definitely do it."

“I just need a storyline – or, at least an idea.”

"Well, I happen to know someone who writes."

"Ashton writes?” Louis asks, looking confused and simultaneously shocked. “I thought he was just a numbers guy. What does he write?"

Niall shakes his head. "Not Ashton. Harry."

"Oh, of course,” Louis snorts. “Your _other_ boyfriend."

This time, Niall reaches out and punches him hard in the arm. He doesn’t even feel guilty when Louis yelps.

X

He’s bent over in his chair the following day, arms stretched down to pull his shoes back on underneath his desk, when there’s a gently tap on the wall next to him. He looks up, thinks it might be Fiona or Matt coming by to ask him to bring them back a coffee after his lunch break – except that it isn’t. At all.

"Harry, hey,” he mutters, pushing himself to his feet. His stomach is in knots, and there’s a lump in his throat and he isn’t entirely sure he still knows how to breath. “Uh, Grimmy's actually not in today-"

Harry shrugs. "Well then it's a good thing I didn't come for Grimmy then, isn't it?"

Niall blinks, taken aback. He stares forward at Harry with baited breath.

"I came to bring you to lunch."

"Oh,” Niall breathes, as though that hadn’t been his first thought. “Why?"

Harry shrugs, before folding his arms over the top of the wall the way he always does. “We haven't seen each other in a while. I thought we could catch up. I’ve wanted to ask you how your interview with Rita Ora went."

"Yeah, sorry I didn't answer yesterday," Niall apologizes sheepishly. His left hand goes straight to the back of his neck to scratch it, then; more out of nervous habit than anything. He doesn’t even know _why_ he’s nervous- Or, well, perhaps he does, and he just knows he _shouldn’t_ be; feels a bit guilty that he is. "I was running late for work, and Ashton-"

"It's ok,” Harry says nonchalantly, effectively cutting off Niall’s rant. He smiles softly. “I wasn't really expecting a reply anyway."

Niall frowns, because that stings. He knows that Harry isn’t purposely _trying_ to get in a dig at him, but it stings all the same. It’s not like he was trying to be mad at Harry. It’s not like he was even mad _at_ Harry, he was just… He was mad at himself, more than anything, he reckons. "Harry-"

Harry waves him off quickly and then claps his hands together. "Lunch,” he announces firmly. “You and me. Now or never. Well, not _never, obviously, but-"_

"You're an idiot," Niall snorts, rolls his eyes fondly. "I was just about to head down to that café around the block."

It’s probably not the greatest idea. He should probably have used this opportunity to tell Harry that they can’t hang out anymore. But looking at Harry now, seeing him face-to-face, he knows that what he originally predicted is true; he wouldn’t be able to do that – even if he wanted to. 

"Great,” Harry chirps, falling into step beside Niall as they make their way to the exit, “I _love_ cafés."

The café is a small, family run, local coffee and pastry shop that’s located just around the block from the BBC building. It’s called Sarah’s Kitchen, just opened a few weeks ago, and Niall’s obsessed with it; he’ll fight anyone who claims that the shop doesn’t make the best coffee _and_ pastries in London. Plus, the owner is incredibly kind and enthusiastic. She has a good vibe about her, and so does the shop, which is decorated in soft, pastel colours and old, antique trinkets. It’s lovely.

"So when do you guys move?" Harry asks as they both take a seat at a small, round table in front of the shop’s window.

"Two months,” Niall replies, shrugging off his jacket. He lets it fold over the back of the chair. He’d been nervous, and a little bit hesitant to tell Harry about the house at first – mostly because he wasn’t sure how Harry would react, or what he would say. Not that he should have been, he knows, seeing as he and Harry are just friends. So rather than drag it out and avoid it for as long as possible, until absolutely necessary, he treated it the way one would treat ripping off a plaster; quickly and efficiently – and casually, whilst standing in line. “We could've done it next month, but we still have so much to do before then. Two months will be a lot less stressful for both of us, I think.”

Harry hums, curling his hands around his mug. "Makes sense."

Niall looks at him, watches his fingers beat silently against the side of the mug, watches Harry’s gaze flicker to look out the window. "We should talk about something else," he suggests.

"Niall-"

"Like, the weather or what you've been up to for the past week – or _who_ you've been up to, I suppose,” he suggests. “Or-"

Harry kicks gently at Niall’s foot underneath the table to stop him from talking. "I'm okay with talking about you and Ashton, Niall,” he says, pausing just to thank the barista who brings them both of their sandwiches. He looks back at Niall after she leaves. “Just because I happen to be a little bit in love with you, doesn't mean I can't talk about your relationship with him."

Niall blinks, and his stomach feels sick. Harry’s words – _a little bit in love with you_ – swirl around inside his head. He kind of hates how easy that was for Harry to say, how casual and… _normal_ it sounds rolling off Harry's tongue; how _familiar_ it sounds, despite having never said it to him before. He also hates that a part of him kind of wants to say it back… "Harry-"

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me,” Harry says quickly, with a shake of his head. “And I don't want you to think that you can't talk to me about your life just because I'm not _really_ a part of it. I'm in love with you, but that's all on me; it's not your fault."

"Haz-"

"Now, let's talk about the weather because I'm convinced-"

" _Harry_ ,” Niall says, emphasizing Harry’s name because, well, it’s _not_ all on Harry and it’s not Harry’s fault at all. He wants to tell Harry this, wants to assure him that he isn’t alone – wants to tell him that he _is_ a part of his life now, even if it might not seem that way on surface. Except that Harry sort of has a point, doesn’t he? Because Niall’s been treating Harry more like a _dirty little secret_ than a friend… 

The realization hits him hard, steals his breath away. He wants to apologize, but he doesn’t know how.

Harry smiles weakly, like he knows what Niall’s thinking. "Just – don't, okay? I'm fine. We're fine. We’re just friends and I can handle it."

Niall stares at him, and suddenly he isn’t hungry anymore. He thinks Harry sounds a lot like him – or perhaps he sounds a lot like Harry – when he says that. It’s like Louis is right, like they’re both trying too hard to convince themselves. Maybe if they both say it often enough, and with enough purpose, it’ll be true someday.

"Speaking of friends," Niall says, for no other reason than to change the subject. (It’s better to talk about something else now, rather than risking saying or doing something both of them regret later.) He takes a bite of his sandwich, despite no longer having an appetite, and it isn’t lost on him that until now, Harry hadn’t touched his sandwich either. "You remember my mate Louis?"

"The short one, yeah?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed. He looks deep in thought. “With the temper and the camera?"

" _Temper_ is putting it a bit mildly, but yes," Niall snorts. "He wants to direct and produce his own movie. And, like, he's really talented behind the camera and with the producing side of things, obviously, but he's rubbish with, well, words."

Harry raises an eyebrow.

"So I may have told him that I would ask you to partner with him.”

The brunette looks a bit confused as he leans back in his chair. "I've never written a screenplay. 'm more of a poem-slash-novel kind of guy."

"Well then here's your chance to try!” Niall replies encouragingly. He smiles brightly as he shrugs. “Can't be that difficult, right?"

Harry looks thoughtful.

"I mean, you don't have to,” Niall says quickly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. What if he’s just gone too far? Asking him to help his friend write a screenplay for a movie minutes after he just confessed being _a little bit in love_? “You know what, forget it. I just thought-"

"I'll do it."

Niall smiles. "Yeah?"

Harry shrugs, takes a sip of his tea. "Why not? It'll be fun, I’m sure. And, who knows, maybe I'll become famous. And then you could interview _me_.”

"Fame-whore," Niall teases. 

Harry rolls his eyes, despite smile spreading across his lips. The dimple appears in Harry’s cheek, and Niall all but swoons because of it.

And just like that, they fall back together. Just like that, everything feels normal again. Easy. It feels like maybe they _can_ be just friends. Maybe it doesn’t have to matter that Harry has fallen _a little bit in love_ with him, or that Niall’s kind of incredibly confused about how he feels about Harry. Because maybe all that does matter is that they _are_ friends, and that Harry is too important to him to let anything else ruin that. 

And for the first time since Harry walked into the office today, after several days of not seeing each other, Niall doesn't feel like they're walking on eggshells.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry leans forward, then, rests his left elbow on the edge of the coffee table, and rests his head and on his hand as he looks at Niall. He’s got a look on his face – one of pure adoration, and admiration, and _love_ , and Niall can feel the blush creeping up his neck.
> 
> "Stop," Niall murmurs.
> 
> Harry scoots closer. "Stop what?"
> 
> "Stop...looking at me like that."
> 
> "Like what?" Harry whispers, scooting impossibly closer, still. Until their shoulders are touching, and Niall can feel Harry’s breath on the side of his face.
> 
> Niall turns his head and finds that he's face-to-face with Harry; forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose. He looks at Harry's eyes, dilated so much that Niall can barely see the dark green of his iris, beautiful and lustful. His gaze falls, then, to Harry's lips, and Niall's never wanted to kiss someone, anyone, more than he wants to kiss Harry _right_ now. And he could. There’s nothing stopping him – save from the impending guilt he knows he would feel if he did. But he could, and it would be so easy, and it would feel so _good_. He _could_. But instead, he forces himself to look away. "Like _that_ ," he breathes as he tries to turn away, attempts to pull back.

[Chapter Seven]

"So he hasn't told you _anything_?"

Niall glances sideways to where Louis is, rolling a paint roller through the beige paint in a tray on the floor. They’re repainting the walls in the living room; a deal Ashton had made with their landlord in exchange to be able to paint the walls grey shortly after they’d moved in. Niall had insisted, at the time, that they didn’t _need_ to paint the walls, but Ashton was even more insistent and, well, he’d won.

As for Louis, well – he’s talking about Harry.

Niall rolls his eyes as he dips his brush into the paint inside his own try, propped up on a second ladder beside his own. He reaches up, slightly above his head, to stroke the brush across the wall near the ceiling. (Thank goodness for Frog Tape.) "No."

"He hasn't even hinted?" Louis presses curiously, and sort of…desperately.

"I'm not even sure he's decided what he wants to write."

Louis groans as he rolls the paint roller up and down the wall in front of him. "You suck. You're officially the worst."

"How the fuck am I the worst?" Niall asks incredulously.

"Because you should be hassling it out of him so that I at least know what to expect."

Niall rolls his eyes, shakes his head as he steps down and away from the ladder. "I got him to agree to writing a script for you, what more do you want from me?"

Louis pauses in his motions to look at him, straight-faced. "Answers."

"You know, this is the _second_ favour I've done for you this year and you're no more grateful than you were the first time,” Niall snaps. Louis has thanked him, sure, just as he had when he asked Niall to find him strangers that were willing to kiss other strangers – but being thankful doesn’t necessarily equal being grateful. At least, not when it comes to Louis Tomlinson.

"Oi! I thanked you – both times," Louis says defensively, as Niall knew he would.

Niall rolls his eyes again as he reaches for a clean roller. "Yeah, and then proceeded to be a right arse about it,” he points out. He dips the roller into the paint tray. “He'll have a story when he has a story. Until then, you’d better be nice to him."

"Why? Gonna kick me arse if I'm not?"

"Might do."

Louis scoffs. "I'm willing to bet anything that I could be as much of an arse to him as I am to you-"

"-at least you admit it-"

"-and he would still write me the story, because the favour he’s doing isn't for me. It's for _you_."

Niall glares him. "Shut up."

"Just like that kiss was _all_ for you-"

Niall grabs a dirty rag from off the floor, balls it in his left fist and then throws at him. It doesn’t do any damage, apart from hitting Louis softly in the chest and smearing more beige paint on Louis’ shirt and joggers as it flutters to floor, but that’s not really the point anyway. "Shut up, idiot!” he hisses. “Ashton could walk in any-"

As if on cue the door opens and Ashton walks into the flat. His head is down, gaze trained on his phone in one hand as he uses the other to close the door behind him.

Niall stares at Louis, eyes a bit wide in panic, breath caught up in his throat. The walls are thin, is the thing, and-

"Anyway," Louis pretends to continue, as if nothing had happened. "If you could just get him to speed up his process and get me a story then that would be ace," he drawls in a bored voice. Perhaps he should have been an actor after all.

Niall sighs heavily. "I told you, Lou. He'll have a story when he has a story."

"Who's gonna have a story for what?" Ashton asks as pockets his phone. He steps up beside Niall and plants a kiss on his cheek, spreads his hand across the small of Niall’s back.

"Harry's writing a script for Louis' next project,” Niall replies, as casually as he can. “And Louis is an impatient little shit."

Ashton’s brow furrows in a curious sort of confusion. "What, like- A movie, or something?"

"Not _like_ a movie or _something_ ," Louis scoffs. "It's an _actual movie_. Or, well, it will be – if Harry ever ends up writing it."

Niall has half a mind to throw something else at him, like the whole paint can, but decides against it.

"I hope it's better than your other videos."

Niall blinks, lump in his throat. _Other videos?_

Louis looks confused. "I wasn't aware that you watch my videos."

"I don't usually," Ashton shrugs. "But I was bored at work today and went through some of the videos you posted on Facebook. Haven't seen the kissing video yet, but that's only because I'm not actually sure I want to watch a bunch of strangers kiss each other for the first time. I feel like that's awkward. Like, watching a couple snog each other's faces off on the tube with nowhere else to go."

"It's your choice, mate."

Ashton shrugs in response, moves his hand to squeeze gently at Niall’s hip as he presses another kiss to Niall’s cheek. "I have to go call my mum to make sure everything is in order for the morning. I'll be back in a few."

Niall nods before Ashton turns and walks down the hallway towards their bedroom. He lets out a long sigh after his boyfriend is out of earshot, runs a hand through his hair – and doesn't care that he gets beige paint in it.

"I'll delete the video when I get home," Louis murmurs. Finally, he gets it.

"Thank you," Niall breathes.

He’d nearly forgotten about The Stranger Kiss – or, at least the video, and he’d practically forgotten about how badly he’d wanted Louis’ to delete it. In fact, ever since Nick said that the chatter around it would die down in a matter of weeks, he hadn’t even thought about it. Now, however, with the knowledge that Ashton has been watching Louis’ other videos, and the reminder that Ashton could just as easily watch The Stranger Kiss video… Knowing that Louis is going to get rid of it feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders.

X

"I wish you could come with me tomorrow," Ashton murmurs sadly as he crawls into bed. He lays along Niall’s left side, hooks his own left leg over Niall’s, props his head up with his arm, elbow planted into the mattress.

Tomorrow is when Ashton leaves to go with his parents to Australia for a family reunion of sorts. His grandmother hosts something once every couple years and usually Niall goes, but he can't go this year because he has a charity event for sick kids with BBC in two days. It's a football game, for which all the proceeds will be going towards cancer research, and it had been in the making long before Val started making plans for the reunion. Granted, she had tried to change the weekend but, well, Niall’s ability to attend is far less important than the rest of Ashton’s family and, this weekend is the only time the whole family could get together.

Niall frowns down at his boyfriend, pouts his bottom lip and everything. "I know. I wish I could weasel my way out of it, but-"

"Nah, it's for charity,” Ashton says, running a hand up through Niall’s hair. “It’s worth it. Besides, you're gonna have a blast."

"Yeah, probably,” Niall laughs.

"I might even be jealous."

"Sure," Niall snorts, rolling his eyes playfully. "Because you'll be thinking of _me_ while you're out there catching a _wave_."

"Well, probably not at that exact moment. But I will be thinking about you. More specifically, maybe, about that time in my aunt's pool-"

Niall’s eyes widen as he claps a hand over Ashton’s mouth. "Never, _ever_ repeat that in front of your family. Ever."

"Never," Ashton agrees, as he pulls Niall’s hand away from his face to intertwine their fingers.

“They’d disown me.”

Ashton laughs, rubs his thumb over the back of Niall’s hand. “Probably,” he whispers, pushing himself up so that they’re face-to-face. He captures Niall’s lips in a slow, lazy kiss. “I wouldn’t though. And I’m sure, if I tried, I could persuade them to forgive us both.”

Niall hums, runs a hand through Ashton’s waves. His hair is getting longer and longer every day, getting wavier and wavier. It sort of, maybe, reminds him of Harry’s – or, maybe Harry’s reminds him of Ashton’s…

"Will you be getting up to anything besides the charity stuff while I'm gone?"

Niall blinks as he’s pulled out of his thought, and he’s grateful for it as he shrugs. "Might see if the lads want to go to the pub or something but other than that- Not really, no."

Ashton smirks, crawls over Niall to straddle his hips, grinds down on Niall’s dick – and smirks some more when Niall moans. "Just don't do anything I wouldn't do and you'll be fine."

"Yes, sir," Niall breathes.

X

The fundraiser itself goes exceptionally well, with well over £500,000 raised. The game is great too; the turnout is amazing, the support is astonishing, and the event itself is incredibly _fun_. It’s Niall’s team against Nick’s team; a _‘Battle of the DJs’_. Each team is comprised of various, rather famous ex-football stars like Robbie Fowler and Jaap Stam, TV personalities and presenters like Nicky Byrne and Paddy McGuinness, and popstars like Olly Murs and Danny Jones from McFly.

Niall hasn’t truly played football in ages, what with his dodgy knee. He’s done nothing more than kick a ball or two around with Louis every now and then since secondary school. That, coupled with the fact that Niall didn’t get much time in for practice, is probably the main reason he feels a bit rusty.

Nick's team ends up winning the match, and celebrating in a sea of red and white confetti and champagne spray. They only win because of a lucky bounce off the back of Jack Whitehall's head though. 

Niall's still getting changed, having just iced his knee for a few minutes longer than anticipated after the game while everyone else had hit the showers, as everyone begins to leave. He’s not in any rush, and his knee is still incredibly sore – so even if he were in a rush, he wouldn’t be going anywhere too quickly. “I'll find ya later, mate," Niall calls out as James Corden, former television presenter in the UK and current Late Late Show host in America, makes his exit. He’s a nice bloke, a well-rounded family man; Niall likes him.

He shucks his shorts, then, and winces as he moves to step out of them. He’d agreed to meet the lads down at one of the pubs for a post-game pint, but he’s not entirely sure that it’s a good idea. In fact, he’s probably better off just going home to bed – as depressing and juvenile as that sounds, given the fact that it’s only now going on 10:30 p.m..

As if on cue, at the exact moment that Niall bends over just enough to pick up his discarded shorts to put them on the bench, the door opens. A glance over his shoulder tells him it's Harry.

"Well that's quite the sight," Harry drawls playfully, a smirk playing on his pretty lips.

Niall rolls his eyes, despite the smile tugging at his own lips. "Shut up." He sits, then, to put his trousers on, having decided to forgo the shower in favour of resting his knee. A shower can wait. Besides, nobody – not even Harry – has to know.

"Did you get some meds?" Harry asks, as he walks up to stand in front of Niall. He bends down to help when he sees Niall struggling to pull his left pant leg up over his knee, pulls gently and carefully at the fabric so that Niall doesn’t have to stretch his leg out too far.

"Yeah. They're just starting to kick in again,” Niall says. He’d taken extra strength paracetamol during the warm-up before the game so that it would, at the very least, lessen the pain he would feel during the game. It had worked, at first, having only started to wear off during the second half.

"You shouldn't have played."

Niall rolls his eyes. "I played for like- Ten minutes. Total."

"Yeah, but you shouldn't have played at all, Niall."

"Are you gonna congratulate me, or berate me and act like my boyfriend whenever I do something wrong?" It's meant to be a joke, but Harry just blinks at him before pushing himself to his feet. He wants nothing more, in this moment, than to take it back, wishes he could unsay the words. "T-That came out wrong,” Niall stutters, as he moves to stand up. He’s an idiot. Such a fucking idiot. “I-"

Harry hugs him. Curls both arms around Niall’s shoulders and buries his face in Niall’s neck. "Congratulations on a job well done, Ni."

Niall blinks, let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. "Thank you."

"Are you joining the lads for drinks?" the brunette asks when he pulls back. He shoves his fists into the front pockets of his impossibly tight skinny jeans. Niall has to force himself to look away from where he can see the faint line of Harry’s dick.

"Was going to, but I think I'm gonna take it easy now with this bloody knee. You?"

Harry shakes his head. "Nick invited me, but I'm taking it easy too, seeing as I have that barbeque tomorrow."

"Oh, shit," Niall mutters. Somehow he’d forgotten all about the barbeque Harry has been planning – and updating Niall on every other day – for weeks now.

"You didn't make other plans..?"

Niall sighs. "No- No, I just- I forgot about them – and then forgot to tell Ashton."

"Oh. You are still coming though, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Niall nods. He’ll just…have to tell Ashton later, that’s all.

"So, do you want to take it easy together?” Harry asks casually. He leans against the edge of one of the cubbies, watches Niall stuff his shorts, jersey and jacket into a black duffle bag. “Watch a movie, play scrabble-"

Niall scoffs as he swings the strap of his bag over his shoulder. "I'm not playing scrabble with you. You cheat."

Harry gasps, eyes wide and incredulous. "I do not cheat!"

"You do."

"Do not."

"Do so."

"Do _not_."

"Harry,” Niall says firmly, looks pointedly at the brunette as he walks past him. “You play words that aren't actually words."

"And?” Harry asks rhetorically as he starts to follow Niall out of the dressing room and down the hall. “It's not, like, _against_ the rules, technically speaking."

Niall rolls his eyes, despite the smile tugging at his lips. "It's still cheating."

"It's not cheating!"

"No Scrabble. A movie will have to do."

Harry frowns, pouts his bottom lip out a bit. " _Fine_.”

“And no- We’re not watching _Love Actually_.”

“UGH!” 

X

Niall lets himself into Harry's house the following afternoon, because the door is unlocked and the propane tank is heavy and he really doesn’t want to have to wait. (Harry’s lease had ended a couple weeks back, and he’s since moved out of his flat and into his friend, Jeff’s, and Jeff’s girlfriends’ house. It’s a pretty nice house, too.) He kicks the door closed with his foot, before walking down the hall, past the living room and into the kitchen at the back of the house. There’s music playing in the backyard, and people Niall doesn’t know (yet) playing beer pong on the picnic table.

Harry sees him through the back door, grins wide, with bright eyes, and then rushes inside. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Harry murmurs, flinging both arms around Niall's neck. "You're a life saver."

"Yeah well, you're gonna kill me if you don't let go," Niall groans. "This is heavier than it looks."

"Sorry, here,“ Harry lets go immediately, makes a move for the tank, “let me help."

"If I let go now it's hitting the ground, which could very well blow us both up. Just open the door for me so I can take it outside."

Harry does as he's told, and Niall's barely got one foot out the door when Nick yells at him from across the backyard. 

"Well, well, well,” the radio host opposite Niall drawls smugly. “Nice to see you've finally shown up. Now we can get to the cooking."

Niall scoffs. "Oi, blame the host for forgetting the most important part for having a BBQ," he says, nodding towards the brunette behind him. Harry scowls and sticks his tongue out at him.

Nick crosses the yard to join both Niall and Harry on the deck. Everybody else more or less ignores all three of them. "How's your knee feeling today?" he asks, clapping Niall on the shoulder after he’s placed the tank next to the grill.

"Better than yesterday, that's for sure,” the blond says, brushing his hands together. His hands aren’t dirty, per say, but they sort of feel it; he’ll have to wash his hands when he goes back inside to get a drink. “Carrying the tank didn't help – but don't tell Harry that.” His voice drops several octaves as he says that, not that it would matter seeing as though Harry’s far too distracted with trying to connect to tank to the BBQ. “He'd never stop apologizing."

Nick snorts. "He wouldn't, would he?"

Niall laughs. He folds his arms over his chest, watches in amusement as Harry struggles to make the connection. Nick flutters off to talk to Harry’s roommate, a bloke Niall still has yet to meet, seconds before Niall is about to offer Harry his assistance. “Got it?” he asks, smirking as Harry pushes himself up off the ground and brushes his hands against the rear of his jeans.  
“Bloody valve is more confusing than it looks, but yeah,” Harry huffs. “Have to wash my hands now.”

“You and me both,” Niall murmurs, following him back inside the house.

X

Niall finally meets Jeff, Harry's roommate, as well as Jeff's girlfriend, Glenne. It’s been months, now, since he’s known Harry, and this is the first time he’s ever even seen Jeff in person. Jeff is pretty cool. He likes Jeff, think he’s nice and friendly and responsible; thinks he seems exactly like the kind of friend Harry deserves: loyal, caring, and warm.

He also meets Harry's cousin, Matty, who’s about eight feet tall – he’s exaggerating, but only a little bit, and very nice, and he meets a bunch of his _other_ friends; friends that Niall has only ever heard of in passing, when Harry is reminiscing: Ryan, Xander, Adrien, Alice, Cara, Kendall, and Alexa. Liam and Sophia are also there, joined at the hip like the first time he met them. (He finds himself really, really hoping that Liam and Sophia go _home_ tonight.)

Niall's three beers, two burgers, and some fresh, green salad (forced onto him by Harry) in, and he’s fetching a fourth beer – plus one for Harry too – out of the fridge in the kitchen when Jeff walks in, empty paper plate in hand.

"Oh- Hey, man," Jeff says, squeezing past him to get a pantry on the other side. He pulls out a box of gluten-free crackers and another pile of napkins.

"Sorry," Niall mutters.

"No worries."

Niall grabs the bottle opener off the counter next to the sink and pops both his and Harry’s bottles open. He tosses the caps in the garbage can under the sink, and places the bottle opener back on the counter.

"So, where's your boyfriend?" Jeff asks casually, whilst opening the fridge door. There’s a block of cheese in his free hand when he closes the door.

"He's in Australia, actually,” Niall replies. He’s not at all surprised that Jeff knows about Ashton, but he reckons that Harry probably talks about him as little as possible; hence why Jeff doesn’t know where he is. “Family reunion."

Jeff quirks a curious eyebrow as he moves once more around Niall, pulls a cheese knife out of a drawer before gets to work on making a small cheese and cracker plate. "You didn't want to go?"

Niall leans against the counter, watches him. "I wanted to, I just couldn't. The game Grimmy and I played yesterday had been scheduled for months already, by the time his family started to plan the reunion."

"Fair enough."

"This is fun though," Niall says. He looks through the kitchen window, smiles fondly when he sees Harry throw his arms up in victory – a sign that he's just sunk another ball inside a red cup. "Harry's having a blast, isn’t he?"

"Harry's really happy that you came."

"I am too."

Jeff is silent for a moment, although he looks like he has something to say. Meanwhile, he’s cutting the cheese into little squares and placing them on the paper plate he’d brought inside. It’s when he’s wrapping up the cheese block and putting it back in the fridge, that he finally speaks. "He's in love with you, you know,” he murmurs.

Niall blinks, looks sideways at the man next to him. He’s not entirely sure how he’s supposed to respond to that. It’s not like it isn’t already something that he knows, and it’s not like Harry didn’t tell Niall himself. It’s just, well, they haven’t exactly spoken about it since. In fact, it’s something they’d agreed not to talk about at all. And now here’s Jeff, who probably definitely knows Harry better than even Harry knows himself, and Jeff knows – because of course he does, and Jeff isn’t actually asking him because he’s stating it as a fact. Because he knows that Niall knows.

"I know," he murmurs a moment later. How else is he supposed to respond?

Jeff looks at him, and Niall realizes that it’s the first time Jeff has looked at him since he walked into the kitchen. "I told him to stay away from you."

"Y-you did? Why?"

The roommate folds his arms over his chest, leans a shoulder against the fridge door. "He'd just broken up with this girl he was seeing a couple weeks before he met you. He was still...gloomy and- Moody as hell, actually, the day you asked him to do that project for your friend, um-"

"Louis."

"Right. That was the first day he kind of _stopped_ being gloomy,” Jeff explains. “At first I thought it was just the prospect of meeting someone new, you know? At the very least, I thought he was just looking forward to kissing some random so that he can finally get _her_ out of his system.

"And then, he did your friend’s video, and he told me he did it with you – a _Niall Horan, from Ireland_ – and that you had blue eyes and blond hair and a cheeky smile and a boyfriend and- I don't know, I somehow knew that you were going to wind up being trouble for him.

"And _then_ , he told me he'd been spending time with you... And I knew that nothing good would come from that because when he falls, he falls hard – even if it's only for a little while – and you have a boyfriend, whom I've gathered you have no intentions of letting go of. I'd hoped he would lose interest quickly, and yet, he's only fallen harder than I've ever seen him fall before.

"He's _so_ in love with you, Niall, and I've told him countless times that he needs to walk away but he won't listen, because, even if he can't have you for himself, he wants to be your friend – probably more than he's ever wanted anything. Which, against my better judgement – _and_ my first instinct – is why I won't ask you to stay away from him. He would never forgive me if you actually listened.”

Niall remains silent for a moment. A moment in which he glances back out the window, watches Harry celebrate what he can only assume is a total victory by hugging it out with Nick, and thinks about what he’s supposed to say, now. Walking away is something Niall should have done a long time ago, which is something all three of them know, and yet here they are… Because Niall can’t make himself stay away. Because he can’t bring himself to ask Harry to either. "What do you want from me, then?" he asks softly, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"I just want you to be careful with him," Jeff murmurs, though there’s a threatening, protective edge to his voice too.

"I'm trying," Niall whispers.

As if on cue, Harry barrels in through the back door. "Niallllllll!” he shouts, forgetting to use his sober inside voice. He curls himself around Niall’s torso and grasps at his beer, then, before resting his chin on Niall’s shoulder. “We're playing partners now and I need you to be my partner, please. Jeff, you can be Matty's partner."

Jeff stares at him. "I'd rather be Niall's partner."

"No, Niall's mine,” Harry says firmly, clutching at Niall a bit possessively (albeit playfully). “Get your own." And then he’s pulling on Niall’s arm, guiding him clumsily towards the exit and out onto the deck for another round of beer pong. Thankfully, everyone except Jeff – and maybe Nick – are too busy doing their own things, whether it be drinking, smoking, or snogging, to notice the way Harry’s hand slip from the curve Niall’s elbow down towards Niall’s hand.

And Niall, despite his best efforts to ignore the way Harry’s fingers fit between his, finds himself welcoming the warmth and the feeling of belonging, whilst simultaneously hiding his blush behind the bottle he raises to his lips.

X

The music has since been turned off, and the backyard has been emptied of drunk people when Niall comes back into the house, carrying a black garbage bag full of red solo cups and paper plates. The party is over, it’s clean up time, and everyone has gone except for Niall. And Harry, but- Harry lives here, so-

Harry's in the kitchen, loading the last of the ceramic dishes into the dishwasher. He’s bent over, floral blouse hanging low enough that Niall has a perfect view of the smooth skin of Harry’s chest and abs.

Niall has to force his gaze away as he ties the bag closed and places it on the floor in the corner with another one. "That's the last of it, Haz. Where's Jeff and Glenne?"

"They went up to bed,” Harry responds, closing the dishwasher as he stands up straight. The door clicks into place, Harry presses a button, and then the machine comes to life. “Thank you for sticking around to help clean up."

"Any time."

Harry smirks, shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "Oh yeah? So next time I have a party, even if you aren't invited, I can call you and you'll help me clean up?"

"I mean, I'd need the invite in order to 'stick around'," Niall points out.

"Then I guess from here on out you're invited to all of my parties."

"Oh, so the truth comes out,” Niall teases. He picks a grape off of a vine in the fruit bowl on the counter and tosses it at the brunette across from him. “You don't want to be my friend, you just want me to be your maid – and you've been buttering me up to it all this time."

Harry grins around the grape in his mouth. "You got me."

Niall rolls his eyes playfully as he nudges past Harry to get to the sink to wash his hands.

"You're staying the night, right? Since you've been drinking."

"I'm sober enough now that I could drive," Niall shrugs. He still feels a bit tipsy, but he’s within the limit of being able to drive now, at least. Not that he really wants to, because he’s also a bit tired.

"You should stay,” Harry murmurs. “Please."

Niall nods, dries his hand on the towel hanging on the handle of the oven behind him. "O-okay. Yeah, I'll stay."

Harry grins. "Want to play Scrabble?"

Niall stares at the hopeful look on Harry's face. He hates the voice in his head telling him that he might as well just say yes; that there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that he’d be able to say ‘no’ and stand his ground against Harry in either of their states at the moment.

"We'll turn it into a drinking game."

"Fine," Niall agrees relatively easily. Because why the hell not? What’s the worst that could happen?

X

Niall's winning, surprisingly enough. Because Niall never wins. And they're both a little bit drunk. (Again, but no comment.) They’re each sitting on a cushion on the floor between the coffee table and the front of the sofa, two empty beer bottles and a third one that’s about half full (each) on either end of the table.

"You're cheating," Harry accuses. He pouts as Niall gets yet another word – a word with five letters, which means that Harry has to drink for a total of five seconds.

"'m not cheating. I'm just better when I'm drunk, apparently."

Harry snorts, winking suggestively as he brings the rim of the bottle to his lips. "So am I."

Niall rolls his eyes, and reaches for more tiles. "I'm sure."

"Alright, maybe not _better_ ,” the brunette concedes as he lowers the bottle from his lips, “but definitely more _fun_."

"Are you ever not able to make a sexual reference in a normal conversation?"

"Not if you're standing in front of me,” Harry slurs, with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “Besides, you make it so _easy_."

Niall’s breath catches in his throat, gaze floating away from the brunette’s face. "Harry," he murmurs, because they're teetering on the edge between acceptable banter and inappropriate comments.

Harry frowns apologetically. "Sorry," he whispers, setting his own gaze back on the board.

Silence falls between them, whilst Niall sips deliberately at his beer, and Harry looks between the letters he has and the words that are already on the board. They’ve been doing this a lot lately, teetering on the edge of acceptable banter mostly made up of sexual references and flirting. And usually it’s not so bad, because usually Harry knows what’s appropriate and when to stop, and it’s not that he doesn’t trust Harry, it’s just… Well, maybe right now – because they’re both drunk, he doesn’t quite trust either of them.

Harry gets the word 'DESTINY', then, and Niall only has to drink for three seconds.

"Do you believe in fate?" the brunette asks suddenly, after Niall finishes swallowing his swig.

Niall blinks, taken aback. Nobody has ever asked him anything about fate before… "What, like...soulmates, or something?"

Harry nods. "Yeah."

"I don't...I dunno," Niall says truthfully. He pulls his right leg up, bends it carefully on a bit of an angle between himself and the coffee table, and rests his arm on it. "I've never really thought about it before. Do you?"

"To a degree."

Niall’s brow furrows in confusion. "Meaning what, exactly?"

Harry shrugs, leans back against the couch, plays with his hands in his lap. "When most people think of the word 'soulmate' they think, like, _couples_. But I kind of think that there are different kinds of soulmates. Like, a best friend- There's a different relationship between you and your best friend than there is between you and someone who you simply think of as a casual friend; it's a different, like…bond. It's like you truly get each other, 100 per cent – and sometimes you get each other _more_ than you and your significant other, or, at least, in a different way."

"A best friend soulmate," Niall murmurs. "Okay, I get that."

"And maybe there's a different kind of significant other,” Harry continues, looking thoughtful, “someone you don't end up spending the rest of your life with – but someone you _could_ , if you wanted to, because you’d be perfect for each other. Like, maybe they're your soulmate, but they were just...too late. Or, maybe you were too late, who knows, you know?

Niall blinks, stares at Harry then with a heavy heart and butterflies in his stomach. He knows, somehow, exactly what Harry is talking about,; knows exactly why he thinks that. He’s talking about them. More specifically, though, he’s talking about _himself_. "I mean, yeah...that's possible, I suppose,” he murmurs.

Harry leans forward, then, rests his left elbow on the edge of the coffee table, and rests his head and on his hand as he looks at Niall. He’s got a look on his face – one of pure adoration, and admiration, and _love_ , and Niall can feel the blush creeping up his neck.

"Stop," Niall murmurs.

Harry scoots closer. "Stop what?"

"Stop...looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Harry whispers, scooting impossibly closer, still. Until their shoulders are touching, and Niall can feel Harry’s breath on the side of his face.

Niall turns his head and finds that he's face-to-face with Harry; forehead-to-forehead, nose-to-nose. He looks at Harry's eyes, dilated so much that Niall can barely see the dark green of his iris, beautiful and lustful. His gaze falls, then, to Harry's lips, and Niall's never wanted to kiss someone, anyone, more than he wants to kiss Harry _right_ now. And he could. There’s nothing stopping him – save from the impending guilt he knows he would feel if he did. But he could, and it would be so easy, and it would feel so _good_. He _could_. But instead, he forces himself to look away. "Like _that_ ," he breathes as he tries to turn away, attempts to pull back.

Harry's hand, curled around the back of Niall's neck, prevents him from moving, holds him there. He dips his head, the skin of his lips just barely grazing Niall's – and Niall gasps, ducking his head before Harry can deal the kiss. "Harry- Haz, we can't,” he breathes. _I_ can't..."

"Shit," Harry mutters, pulling back. He pushes himself away, all the way to his feet, and pushes his hands through his hair before shrinking in on himself. "Fuck, Ni, I- I didn't-"

"It's okay," Niall insists. He also pushes himself to his feet, busies himself with cleaning up the Scrabble board because he knows the game is over now. There is no winner. There’s no going back now. His stomach is in his throat, and his heart is beating so hard against his chest that he’s positive that Harry can hear it.

Harry shakes his head as he starts to pace over a short distance across the living room floor. "It's not okay, I- And you're-"

"Harry, it's okay." Niall steps in front of him, blocks his path and takes Harry's head into his hands. Harry looks at him, after some silent coaxing from Niall, and his eyes are full of guilt and regret now. "I promise, it's okay," he whispers.

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay,” Niall insists, though he isn’t entirely sure who he’s trying to convince; Harry, or himself. “Let's just...go to bed, yeah? It's okay. I'll take the couch."

"You don't have to take the couch,” Harry says softly. “ _I'll_ take the couch."

"What about your back?"

"What about _your_ knee?"

Oh, yeah… "Touché," Niall murmurs, shoving his hands into each front pocket of his jeans.

"We could both sleep in my bed,” Harry suggests, albeit hesitantly, “it's big enough."

Niall stares at him, eyebrow cocked.

Harry lifts his hands up in surrender. "I won't do anything, I promise. I'll even sleep in all my clothes."

Niall snorts. "Harry Styles from Cheshire, offering to keep his clothes on? While he sleeps? When he usually sleeps in the nude? I almost don’t believe it."

"It's a small price to pay to be a decent human being,” Harry shrugs, with a smirk. “For your _knee_ , of course."

"Of course."

They fall asleep back-to-back. Both of them are full-clothed, with a space about four inches wide between them.

Sleep seems to find Harry relatively quickly, if his even, steady breath is anything to go by. Niall, on the other hand, has a hard time welcoming sleep. He can’t stop thinking about how badly he'd wanted to kiss Harry, is the thing. Can’t stop thinking about the look on Harry’s face, and in his eyes. Can’t stop thinking about the disappointment that fell over Harry’s face when Niall had turned him away – let alone the disappointment he, himself, felt in his own heart. Sleep only finds him when even his overthinking brain is too tired to think.

What he doesn't know, is that it _does_ take just as long for Harry to fall asleep as well. Harry just knows how to pretend to really be asleep, after years of pretending in order to avoid awkward, morning-after run-ins.

X

The constant sound of something vibrating is what makes him stir, but it’s the feeling of the vibrations (that just won’t stop) underneath his pillow that wakes him up. That’s also when he feels the back of Harry’s body pressed against his front… He groans, winces in the daylight seeping in through the crack in the middle of the curtains hanging closed over the window on the other side of the bedroom. He's groggy and his mouth feels (and tastes) a bit like sandpaper as he pulls his phone out from between the pillow beneath his head and the mattress, and rolls onto his back. It's _Ashton_.

And Harry's still asleep beside him, their feet tangled together under the blanket.

He climbs out of the bed and then shuffles as quickly as his stiff legs will carry him out into the hallway. Only then does he swipe his thumb across the screen and bring the phone up to his ear. "Hey, Ash," he murmurs quietly.

"Hey, babe,” Ashton chirps happily. He, at least, sounds well-rested. “Did I wake you?"

"Yeah, it's okay though."

Ashton laughs softly. "Late night? Go out with the boys?"

Niall blinks because oh, yeah… He’d told Ashton, before his boyfriend even left, that he’d probably be going out with the boys – and he hadn’t even bothered to tell Ashton that there was a change in plans. It hadn’t seemed necessary, at the time, if he’s honest. And, well, now it just seems…inappropriate, for lack of a better word, Niall thinks. What if Ashton asked questions? "No, I...stayed in. I was just up late, you know? How's it going where you are?" he asks, if for no other reason than to change the subject.

"Great, actually! Caught some great waves earlier, had some _shrimps on the barbie_. Dad wants to go fishing tomorrow, grill up some trout or something."

"That sounds amazing," Niall hums. And he isn’t even exaggerating. Fresh fish grilled on the barbeque is always delicious.

"It is. I wish you were here though."

Niall sighs, feels his heart swell up in his chest. "Me too," he whispers, leaning back against the wall outside Harry’s bedroom. And he does. He misses Ashton. He also would rather be there, with Ashton, than be lying to him from here.

"Well, I just wanted to check in real quick, but I'll let you get back to bed, ya sleepyhead. I'll see you in a couple days, love."

"Yeah, okay."

"I love you," Ashton says, and Niall can practically feel it coming through the phone.

Niall takes a breath. "Love you too," he whispers back, but a moment later.

He lingers out in the hallway for several minutes after he’s hung up, the back of his head pressed against the wall behind him. He’s not sure he can go back in there, isn’t sure he can face Harry after what transpired last night – or even after waking up just now, his body molded around Harry’s like a big spoon. It’s time to go, though, this he knows. And his wallet and keys are still in the bedroom.

Harry's awake, sitting with his back against the headboard when Niall walks back into the room. He looks up at Niall with sad eyes. "Morning."

"Morning." Niall feels _immensely_ guilty. Nothing happened, not really, and yet it still feels like he's cheated on his boyfriend. Like he’s _cheating_ – present, because technically he is. He hasn’t physically cheated, he hasn’t quite crossed that line, but he’s thought about it and he’s wanted it. He’s cheating _mentally_ , and _emotionally_ , and Niall can’t help but wonder if perhaps that might be worse.

"Ashton?"

The blond nods as he walks around the bed to the side he’d occupied through the night, grabs his wallet and his keys off the bedside table and pushes them into each back pocket. "Yeah. I have to go."

"Niall-"

"Just- I just have to go, Haz." Niall can’t even look at Harry. At least, not properly.

Harry blinks as he pushes the blankets off of his long, jean-covered legs before climbing to his feet. "Are you mad?"

Niall sighs. "No, I'm not mad – at least…not at _you_."

"Don't be mad at yourself, you didn't do anything wrong."

That’s when Niall does look at; it’s when he has to. "I just lied to my boyfriend because I didn't want him to know that I spent the night with _you_ in _your_ bed, Harry. I couldn’t just simply say that I got a little bit too drunk to drive so I stayed the night without feeling like he was going to find out the truth if I did, so I _lied_ to him. That feels...so wrong, on so many levels."

"But we didn't do anything," Harry reminds him. His voice is gentle when he says, but he also sounds small in a way that reminds Niall of a child begging not to be punished because he or she didn’t do anything technically _wrong_.

"I know,” Niall breathes, which in and of itself is getting harder and harder to do the longer Niall stays here. “But it doesn't change the fact that..." He doesn't say it, _can't_ say it – that he _wanted_ to – but he knows that Harry understands, if the way the brunette looks away is anything to go by. He can’t _say_ it, despite the fact that they both know it.

Harry frowns, folds his arms across his chest protectively, like he’s shielding himself from the world around him. From Niall. "This changes everything, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't have to,” Niall whispers – which is true, if they can manage it. “But it will if I stay, so I have to go. Please, Harry..." _Please don’t make it any harder than it already is_ , he thinks.

Whether Harry hears it or not is unclear, but Harry walks Niall out nonetheless. He lingers in the doorway, watches as Niall climbs into his Range Rover and drives away. He looks sad, like his heart is breaking.

And Niall hates how badly he wants to turn the car around.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall blinks. "I- I never _want_ to hurt him."
> 
> "I know. But you and I both know it's inevitable. He does too, he's just...he _likes_ you too, you know? He wants to be able to be friends with you, but one of these days it's going to hit him and...just be careful with him? Let him down gently, when you do."
> 
> A sense of déjà vu washes over Niall, then, because he’s heard those exact words before. _Be careful with him._ And he’s smart, Niall is. He likes to think that nobody will get hurt, likes to pretend that nobody will have to get hurt – but he’s smart, and deep down he _knows_ that no matter how hard he tries, Harry is going to hurt. Niall is going to hurt too, probably, but Harry is going to hurt _more_. And the only thing Niall can do about that now, is to do exactly as Gemma and Jeff have asked of him; to be careful about it.
> 
> Niall nods, licks his lips and whispers, "Always."

[Chapter Eight]

Harry writes a script for Louis in only three days, once he actually takes the time to sit down and write it.

(Louis had gotten so impatient, just sitting around waiting, that he’d bypassed going through Niall and had just gone straight to the source. Over and over and over.)

It's about soulmates. Except it's less about soulmates and how they're soulmates, and more about how two _soulmates_ , bound by love and fate, deal – or not deal, at least not very well – with not being together. And he lets Niall read it before he shows it to anyone else, including Louis, which only gives Louis yet another reason to pitch a fit, but that’s neither here nor there.

Here’s the story, as told by Niall:

Edward is a college freshman, or so he says. He doesn't quite fit in, but he doesn't quite stand out either, which is just as well. He does well in school, but he isn't really a nerd; he enjoys an occasional drink, but he doesn't really like to party; and he dates, a lot, because it’s fun and it keeps life interesting and he likes sex, so that’s a bonus. He’s never serious about the people he dates, and the people he shags are never serious about him, and it works for the time being. He knows his soulmate is out there, that he’ll meet him (or perhaps her, he’s never been very picky) and that they’ll fall in love. He knows it’s bound to happen, because it’s fate – and _everything happens for a reason_ , and he knows that one day (probably soon) nothing and nobody else will matter, at least not quite as much as his soulmate, and he’s prepared for that. He is. (A part of him can’t wait for it.)

The thing about soulmates is this: there are no rules. There's no specific _tell_. Actually, there are plenty of 'tells', but there's absolutely no way to know which one is yours until it's probably already happened. Hence why there are no rules, because it's different for everyone – soulmates included, sometimes. It’s a complicated system at best.

Edward finds his soulmate in the courtyard at school, and by 'finds' he definitely means that he quite literally bumps into the poor bloke. It happens again in a record shop, when they both reach for the same record. And then he meets James – that's his name – a third time in a coffee shop and Edward literally spills his tea all over the front of James' shirt. 

James is beautiful; hair bright like sunshine with brown roots, eyes like the sparkling blue ocean, cheeks flushed like roses and lips as pink as bubblegum. He laughs when Edward stutters and grabs a bunch of napkins, waves him off like it isn't a big deal. He smiles like he swallowed the sun and it's incredibly contagious. Breathtaking. Mesmerizing.

Edward is already consumed by him.

The _tell_ is a small, barely there birthmark shaped like a cross on James' left hand. Edward knows it's the _tell_ because he has one too. (James even catches Harry staring at it, and a soft look of recognition settles in his eyes as he nods, because he gets it too.)

So, naturally, Edward asks James to join him for a coffee, promises not to spill his new cuppa on James for a second time. And James would love to, says he wishes he could except, well, he already has a girlfriend. She's not his soulmate, obviously, and they both know that, but James loves her anyway – perhaps even all the more for it. 

That's the plot twist. It's that Edward and James are _soulmates_ , they're _meant_ to be together according to the universe, and maybe (whilst they spend more and more time together, by accident at first, running into each other in libraries and at parties, and then entirely on purpose – but only as friends) they want to be, but James can't bring himself to leave Amy. And Edward pretends to be okay with that, he tries to be – until he can't; until he can't pretend that he's okay with watching his _soulmate_ be with someone else. 

And that's the turning point. 

The other thing about soulmates, though, is this: it's fate. It's mental, it's emotional, it's physical, it's biological. Before you've even met, you've bonded – and after you meet, and the more time you spend together (even if it is _just as friends_ ) the bond only gets stronger. So strong that it hurts – mentally, emotionally, physically, biologically – to be away from each other. So strong that it's nearly impossible to be apart for more than a few hours. 

And that's how it ends. For the time being, anyway-

Because Harry hasn't decided on the _actual_ ending yet and he refuses to tell Niall the two "very different" potential endings he’s got floating around in his head. He says there’s a method to his madness, that he needs time to figure out how it’s going to end – that he wants to let it happen organically. And Niall doesn’t get that, because Harry is the writer, and therefore he should be able to give it any kind of ending he wants to. But then, Niall isn’t a writer, so what does he know anyway?

Niall thinks the story is amazing. He thinks that Harry is a great writer, with even greater ideas, and he tells him as much too. It’s a great story, with an interesting plotline, and Niall really, really wants to know how it ends. _How does Edward cope? Who does James choose?_

What Niall doesn’t tell him, though he assumes that Harry must already know, is that he knows what – or whom – the inspiration is behind the story. He knows exactly who Edward and James, and even Amy, are loosely based off of. And, in a way, he knows exactly why Harry is waiting for the ending. It’s just something that neither one of them address; something they both continue to ignore every day.

X

The first day of shooting is five days after Harry hands the script-turned-full-on-story over to Louis, in _Sarah’s Kitchen_ because Niall suggested it. Niall isn’t entirely sure how Louis manages to get the ball rolling so quickly on the filming part of things, but he truly does admire Louis’ tenacity in getting what he wants whenever he just so happens to want it.

Niall swings by after work to see how things are going. Harry had texted him at lunchtime, told him that he’d be meeting Louis at the coffee shop and that Niall could ‘stop by if he fancies it’ and, well, Niall couldn’t think of a single reason not to. Not that he doesn’t want to, it’s just-

Niall hasn’t seen Harry properly since the morning after Harry’s barbeque. They’ve spoken via text message, and Niall’s seen him in passing at the office – but it’s been nearly two weeks since they’ve actually, properly, hung out with each other. Accidentally on purpose, on Niall’s part.

_The Almost Kiss_ had made things weird and awkward. It had made Niall feel guilty, as it should have, and thus…he just couldn’t bring himself pretend like it hadn’t happened so soon after. Not to mention the fact that for hours and days – even after Ashton had returned, and after Ashton had taken him to bed, all sun-kissed and beautiful – he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and therefore was certain it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to see Harry anyway. And, quite frankly, he had been a little bit of afraid of seeing Harry…a little bit afraid of what he might say, or do, or… _think_.

But it’s been about two weeks, and he misses Harry, and he knows Harry misses him – and they’re going to be in public, anyway, and Louis is going to be there, so… It won’t be a big deal. It’s not a big deal.

_Sarah’s Kitchen_ looks busier than usual at three o’clock in the afternoon on a Thursday, but Niall finds out rather quickly that it’s just because Louis, his camera, a couple of set lights, a couple of blokes Niall has never even seen before but reckons are probably Louis’ actors, and Harry have crowded into the back corner of the café. Louis’ too busy directing the actors through what he wants for the scene to see Niall come in, but Harry isn’t. In fact, apart from the young girl behind the counter, Harry is the only person to notice his presence.

Harry smiles wide, dimples poking holes into his cheeks, as he meets Niall at the counter whilst the blond waits for his drink. “Hey,” he breathes, clapping Niall on the shoulder.

"They're not bad," Niall hums, nudging his chin in the general direction of where the actors have taken a seat at one turquoise table. One bloke, the one who will obviously be playing Edward, is tall with long, lanky legs and big feet and wide shoulders. He has curly hair down to his shoulders, a great jawline, and dark eyes – though Niall isn’t close enough to tell what colour they actually are. The bloke who will be playing James is only a tad bit shorter, with broad shoulders, blond hair, and a little bit of stubble lining the length of his jaw.

"I'm impressed, actually,” Niall admits, before pausing to thank the barista as she hands him his mocha. “They’re almost exactly as I pictured them. Where did Louis even find them?"

"He put a flyer up on some bulletin boards in shops like this," Harry says, motioning towards the board near the front door with all sorts of ads pinned to it – dog groomers offering their services, daycares offering to take on children, business cards for local hair salons and gyms. "They contacted him the very next day."

"Is he paying them?"

"He's calling it 'volunteer time' in exchange for experience."

Niall snorts, because that’s so like Louis, picks a table close to where the actors are making small talk while Louis fiddles around the settings on his new camera, and sits down.

"It's not _entirely_ bogus," Harry laughs, with a shrug of his shoulders as he takes the seat across from Niall. "Besides, he also pointed out that this film could be their big break."

"He's always so sure of himself."

Harry shrugs. "I mean, it worked."

Niall hums. "How he comes up with the most ludicrous ideas and gets people to go along with them is beyond me. I mean, getting complete strangers to kiss each other? Who does that?"

"If I recall, _you're_ actually the one that got complete strangers to kiss each other,” Harry points out, smirking. “Did I ever tell you what a great delivery your speech was?"

Niall relaxes into the back of his chair, and rolls his eyes. No, Harry hadn’t told him, but Niall remembers it like it was yesterday.

"I'm serious!” Harry insists, leaning forward. He folds his arms on the table in front of him. “Had it been anyone else, namely Louis, I probably would've ran for the hills."

Niall raises one eyebrow curiously. "Why _didn't_ you?"

"I told you; your delivery was very convincing."

"But you didn't even get anything out of it."

Harry shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips as he shrugs again. "I got to kiss a really pretty bloke, didn't I?"

Niall blinks. He can feel his cheeks flushing, can feel the heat run down his neck and chest. A lump forms in his throat and his heart swells in his chest and the butterflies in his stomach come to life, and they flutter until he feels sick with it. He hates it when it Harry does that, hates it when Harry flirts with him – so openly and unashamedly, and he hates even more that he doesn’t really hate it at all. He kind of likes it, actually. Even now; even after what happened – and what didn’t happen – the night of Harry’s barbeque.

"Louis should be finishing up shortly, it’s a short scene,” Harry says, then. He’s changing the subject, like he can sense that Niall’s freaking out a little bit inside. “Do you want to grab dinner with me after?"

And _that_ does nothing to ease the butterflies; feels a bit like he’s being asked out on a date. He frowns, though, because- "I can't. Ashton and I are having dinner with his parents tonight."

Harry blinks, and something like hurt flashes across his face as he shift awkwardly in his seat. "Right, yeah,” he says, clearing his throat, “that's fine."

"You could swing by the station tomorrow, and we can do lunch?" Niall suggests, in part because he feels bad, having not seen Harry in several days, but also because, well, Niall misses Harry too.

"I can't,” Harry murmurs sadly, “I'm meeting my sister- Actually, why don't you join us?” He pauses, and a smile spreads across his lips, breaks open his face in excitement. “We'll meet you at the station and we can all go to that deli you like?"

Niall smiles back, looks thoughtful. "I do like that deli."

"Perfect-"

"But I don't want to intrude."

Harry shakes his head and waves his hand as though to wave Niall off. "You won't be, I promise. You'd actually be doing her a favour. She loves meeting my new friends because it means she gets to embarrass me.”

Niall smirks. "Is that so?"

Harry nods. “She also just likes to meet new people. Social butterfly and what have you.”

“So she’s a bit like you, then.”

“She’s a lot like me, actually,” Harry laughs. “Or, maybe I’m a lot like her, since she’s older. Whatever.”

Niall finds himself smiling absentmindedly, because Harry is just so… _Harry_. Because he’s missed this. "Yeah, alright then," he agrees. “I’ll meet your sister, if for no other reason than I think it’s about time I heard some embarrassing stories about you.”

Harry grins. “Yeah? You know what that means then, don’t you? Means I can’t wait to meet your dad, so that he can tell me all sorts of embarrassing stories about you.”

“I don’t have any embarrassing stories, because I’m not embarrassing,” Niall says flippantly, merely to tease Harry.

And Niall doesn’t want to admit it, but he can’t wait to meet Gemma either.

X

Dinner with Ashton's parents goes well. It’s been a while since they’ve all had a meal together – and even longer since they’ve had a meal with either of Niall’s parents, which means they’ll have to do that sooner rather than later as well – but it feels a lot like old times, regardless of how long it’s been.

Niall’s always liked Ashton’s parents. He’s always admired them, and their relationship – especially a number of years ago when it had become clear that Bobby and Maura were heading towards getting a divorce. He’d turned towards Ashton when his parents had given up on their relationship, had stayed at Ashton’s house for days after Bobby had told him because he didn’t want to have to watch his father move out of their family home. Ashton’s parents had always treated him like a son, but they’d shown him even more love and support when he’d needed it the most than either of his parents had been capable of providing. He hadn’t ever blamed his parents for not being there for him (or for his brother), because both Bobby and Maura were absolute wrecks and neither one of them had their heads on properly, but he’d still appreciated Ashton’s parents for picking up the pieces with him.

The chatter is centred mostly on Niall’s and Ashton’s jobs, and their lives in general, during dinner. Ashton catches his parents up to speed on the firm he works at, and the shit storm that was tax season this year, and Niall fills them in on the interviews he’s had at Radio One since he last spoke with them. They assure mum and dad, once again, that everything is good, and they’re both in good places financially.

During dessert, Anne Marie offers to let them have Ashton's great-grandmother's dining room table and chairs, which Ashton tries to decline but she insists. The set is just sitting in storage at the moment anyways, she had pointed out, because they didn’t have room for it upon moving to Ireland. Besides, it’s only fair.

_It's all coming together_ , Niall finds himself thinking later that night as he’s washing the dishes. They might even wind up with more furniture than they’ll know what to do with when moving day comes.

He’s in the midst of drying the last dinner plate, when Ashton comes up behind him. He jumps, but only slightly, as Ashton winds his arms around his waist, before settling back comfortably against Ashton’s chest.

“Hi,” Ashton murmurs, dropping a kiss to the curve of Niall’s neck before resting his chin on Niall’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Niall hums. “That was generous of your mum.”

“I know,” Ashton chuckles softly. “I’m actually a bit surprised.”

“Why?”

“She’s really attached to that set,” Ashton explains. “She was always really afraid of ruining it somehow – which is actually partly why it’s been in storage all these years too. It was too big, yes, but I think that was a blessing in disguise for her because it’s also incredibly valuable to her.”

Niall shrugs. “Suppose that means _you’re_ even more valuable to her, then.”

Ashton makes a noise, although it gets muffled in the fabric of Niall’s shirt when he buries his nose inside the curve of Niall’s neck. “I can’t believe we’re home owners,” he whispers a moment later.

“I know,” Niall murmurs.

“I can’t believe we get to move in in a matter of weeks.”

Niall swallows around a lump in his throat, tries to ignore how tight his chest feels. “I know.”

It’s all coming together. And he should be more excited. Maybe it just hasn't hit him yet, is all.

X

Niall hears Harry before he sees him, and he hates the way his heart leaps for it. He hates that everything else seems to melt away, including the bubble of anxiety that had made a home in the centre of his chest last night after Ashton had gone to bed. More than that, though, he hates that seeing Harry feels a lot like…coming home. The only thing that keeps him from leaving the moment he sees Harry, is the look of pure joy splashed across Harry’s face and the dimple in his cheek the moment he sees Niall.

Gemma is pretty. She’s all long, dark hair, beautiful skin, perfect eyebrows and green eyes and pink lips. She looks tall, like Harry, with long legs crossed underneath the table, and a slim build. In a nutshell, she looks like the female version of her brother – so much so that they could be mistaken for twins if one didn't know any better.

She has some of the same mannerisms too. She’s soft spoken, but her laugh is loud and contagious, and she’s unwaveringly polite. She’s kind and gentle, she has a flare for adventure and creativity. She’s everything that’s good in the world, like Harry. Niall’s only known her for a matter of minutes, really, but he thinks that Harry might be right about Gemma. She has one of the best souls.

Gemma does exactly what Harry says she would do too; she tells Niall embarrassing stories about Harry. She tells Niall about the time Harry put their mother’s bra on over his clothes when he was four years old, and about the day Harry came home with his trousers ripped up the back and how he didn’t even know, and about the time Harry let her straighten his hair when he was 16. She tells Niall all sorts of other stories too, and they giggle over how clumsy Harry is, was and always has been.

And Harry just takes it, let's her do her thing whilst she and Niall laugh. He sits there and listens, a small, barely noticeable smile spread across his lips which he tries to hide behind his hands so that they don’t know how much he’s enjoying it.

Niall decides that he likes her. 

Harry excuses himself to use the loo near the end of their hour – and that's when Gemma turns to Niall, a serious (albeit soft) look on her face the moment Harry is out of earshot. Niall isn’t scared, or anything, because she isn’t really scary, per say, but she definitely looks the part of a protective sister on a mission.

“We need to talk about Harry,” she says softly, quietly, as she leans in slightly across the table.

Niall nods, because he can’t bring himself to speak.

"I know you care about him, Niall,” she starts, and Niall’s heart feels like it’s up in his throat. “I know what's happened between you. I know that you have a boyfriend – and I know you know that Harry has feelings for you. I’m not condemning you, I’m just... Please don't hurt him intentionally, okay? Don't string him along. And if it ever comes down to it, please let him down easy."

Niall blinks. "I- I never _want_ to hurt him."

"I know. But you and I both know it's inevitable. He does too, he's just...he _likes_ you too, you know? He wants to be able to be friends with you, but one of these days it's going to hit him and...just be careful with him? Let him down gently, when you do."

A sense of déjà vu washes over Niall, then, because he’s heard those exact words before. _Be careful with him._ And he’s smart, Niall is. He likes to think that nobody will get hurt, likes to pretend that nobody will have to get hurt – but he’s smart, and deep down he _knows_ that no matter how hard he tries, Harry is going to hurt. Niall is going to hurt too, probably, but Harry is going to hurt _more_. And the only thing Niall can do about that now, is to do exactly as Gemma and Jeff have asked of him; to be careful about it.

Niall nods, licks his lips and whispers, "Always."

X

He feels sick. He almost feels like he’s going to pass out.

Niall has spent the last two days straight think about everything that Gemma said to him, her words reverberating around his head. _I know you know that Harry has feelings for you; just be careful with him; let him down gently, when you do…_

He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it. He’s barely eaten and he’s hardly slept; he’s hurting just thinking about hurting Harry, about hurting himself too in the process, and he can’t even begin to imagine how Harry’s been feeling. How Harry knows that he’s only going to wind up hurt when the other shoe falls, how Harry has been waiting, all this time, for the inevitable but simultaneously hoping it never has to come.

It has to come, though. Because Niall and Ashton are moving into their new house in a matter of weeks, and because after that comes _kids and dogs – and a marriage_. And Niall has to be the one to do it. Niall has to be the one to drop the shoe.

"Maybe we should stop this,” Niall finds himself saying. His voice sounds strange, even to his own ears – like he’s on autopilot or something. He swallows around the lump in his throat and forces himself to breathe through his nose before he passes out. “The hanging out thing..."

Harry looks confused – and he must be. They haven’t seen each other since having lunch with Gemma, and this is the first time they’ve hung out properly, just the two of them, since they almost kissed after Harry’s barbeque. Harry leans forward on the couch, puts his glass of water on the coffee table. "Why?" he asks softly, tentatively, as he looks sideways at Niall. He, too, looks like he’s holding his breath.

"Not, like, permanently, just...for a little while,” Niall explains. “Just until-"

"Until I fall out of love with you?” Harry asks, and then suddenly he’s pushing himself to his feet and shoving his hands through his hair. And, well, Harry kind of hit the nail on the head. Perhaps with a little time apart- “That might never happen, Niall."

Niall sighs. "Haz-"

Harry’s gaze narrows as he stares at Niall, hands on his hips. "Gemma put you up to this, didn't she?"

"No-"

"She did – she told you- I knew she would-"

"The only thing she told me to do was go easy on you and not to hurt you, Harry,” Niall says gently. He pushes himself to his feet, now; feels as though he has to defend Gemma because this isn’t her fault – at all. It’s Niall’s fault; all of it. “ _This_ is me trying to not to hurt you any more than I already have. This way – spending time apart, it might-"

"I don't need you to do this,” Harry says firmly, whilst pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don't want to not be friends with you just because-"

"I'm not gonna stop being your friend, it's just, until you figure out your feelings, maybe we should just...not see each other."

The bitterness in Harry’s laugh, then, startles Niall. "Until _I_ figure out my feelings? I figured out my feelings a long time ago, whether they’re ideal or not, Niall. The question is: have _you_?"

Niall’s brows furrow as he crosses his arms over his chest. "What's the supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means – because at least I can _admit_ that I've got feelings for you."

Niall blinks, remains silent then as he shakes his head in disbelief. "Fuck you," he mutters.

"I'm not wrong though, am I?"

Niall turns to leave. He leaves his own empty glass on the coffee table and walks around it, past Harry towards the front door. The thing that stops him, of course, is the emptiness in Harry’s voice when he calls out to him.

"You're never gonna be able to admit it, are you?"

Niall whirls back around, then. He glares hard at Harry, before stalking back towards him angrily. "Admit what, that I've been falling in love you?! Fine, _I'm falling in love you, Harry Styles from Cheshire_. Happy now?" The last bit is entirely sarcastic, but it doesn’t stop the way Niall’s heart starts racing in his chest. Again, he feels like he’s going to be sick – only it’s for an entirely different reason now.

He’s never allowed himself to acknowledge that before, is the thing. He’s always been aware, has always known that his feelings for Harry ran deeper than he ever wanted to admit, but he’d refused to actually acknowledge it. He’d refused to give his feelings for Harry a definition in fear of…well, everything.

Harry blinks, taken aback. Chances are, he never thought that Niall would acknowledge it either. He probably never thought he’d hear it with his own ears either.

"I'm falling in love with you,” Niall whispers, smiles sadly, “but I'm also in love with my boyfriend – so I'm sorry, if I'm not entirely sure how I'm supposed to handle this."

Harry licks his lips. "Yeah... I-I'm sorry, Ni, I just..." He stutters and then trails off, at a loss for words. And Niall doesn’t blame him.

"It's okay," Niall whispers. “You have nothing to be sorry for, this is all me-“

“It’s not _all you_ , Niall. I-“

“It’s mostly me. I’m the one in a relationship, and I never should have-“

“You can’t help who you fall in love with,” Harry says softly. His eyes are shining with unshed tears, and his bottom lip is quivering like he’s only a few seconds away from crying – and Niall wants it to stop, wants to kiss him and make _both of them_ stop hurting.

“No, I guess not,” Niall agrees. But he could have been a bit smarter in not letting it get this far, but he won’t tell Harry that. He can’t tell Harry that. “I just… I can’t love you the way you deserve, Haz,” her murmurs softly. He lifts his hands up, cups Harry’s face between them gently and presses their foreheads together. “Because I love Ashton, I’ve always loved Ashton, and I want-“

“I know,” Harry whispers back, before Niall has a chance to finish. Niall reckons he probably doesn’t need to anyway. “I know you want to be with him, I know you’ve always wanted to be with him. It’s okay.” He curls his arms around Harry’s waist and pulls him close.

Silence falls between them as they hold each other.

Harry does his best to sniff back tears, but one betrays him; it slips past his eyelashes and rolls down his cheek and Niall’s heart hurts as he wipes it away with his thumb so they can both pretend it never happened.

Niall finds that he desperately wants to believe Harry; wants to believe that everything is going to be okay in the end.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You _kissed_ him, Niall!” Ashton shouts, his voice breaking when he says Niall’s name. His voice is loud, though, and it’s drenched in betrayal, soaked in pain. He looks, and sounds, every bit of a person scorned, and Niall wants nothing more than to pull him into his arms and make it go away. “You kissed him, you kept it from me – and you've been hanging out with him ever since. For all I know, you've been chea-" Ashton’s voice cuts off, then, and he looks like he's going to be sick.
> 
> Niall shakes his head. "I haven't been. Ashton, I promise, Harry and I are just friends-"
> 
> "'Just friends' my ass," Ashton mutters. He twists his wrist until it breaks free from Niall’s grip, and-
> 
> That’s when Harry steps forward, stands behind Niall. "He's telling the truth, we're-"
> 
> "Shut up,” Ashton hisses, his eyes turning into slits as he glares over Niall’s shoulder at him. He even takes a step forward, looks like he’s about to lunge except that he holds himself back. “Shut the fuck up, you don't get to fucking talk to me. Not when I know _exactly_ how you feel about my boyfriend."

[Chapter Nine]

Moving Day comes far too quickly and, quite frankly, he hates the anxiety that comes with it. His chest is tight, and his palms are sweating, his stomach won’t stop churning, and his heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his temples – and that’s just from the mere thought of it. Although, admittedly, the last part might be due to the fact that he’s lying down with his head over the side of the sofa so all the blood is likely just rushing to his head.

But that’s neither here nor there. Not on Moving Day.

The front door opens somewhere on the other side of the house, but he doesn’t bother sitting upright on the couch. Nor does he bother calling out. He’ll be found either way.

“You know,” a voice says from the living room doorway a moment later. “You’d probably feel better if you sat up straight. It might even help your broken heart.”

If Harry hadn’t already recognized the voice as Jeff’s, then the attitude would have given him away.

“Don’t be mean to him,” Glenne scolds him.

Harry opens his eyes just in time to see her slap the back of her hand against Jeff’s shoulder before she carries on into the kitchen to put the groceries away. “Yes, Jeff, listen to your fiancé. Don’t be mean to me.”

Jeff merely sighs as he walks into the room. “I don’t understand why you’ve done this to yourself.”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, Jeff.”

“No,” Jeff agrees, plops down onto the sofa next to Harry. “But you can control how much time you spend with him, thereby possibly controlling your feelings in the long run.”

“ _Possibly_ would never have been good enough,” Harry tells him.

Jeff stares at him. “Why not?”

“Because he’s more than that,” Harry explains. “He’s more than just the boy I’m in love with. He’s a boy I want to know – a boy I want to be friends with, regardless of how I truly feel.”

“Even if just being friends with him breaks your heart…”

“Even if it breaks both of our hearts.”

Jeff smirks. “I honestly can’t tell if that’s brave or stupid.”

Harry shrugs as he pushes himself upright in one surprisingly fluid motion. “I reckon that sometimes bravery and stupidity go in hand-in-hand.”

Jeff smiles sadly, curls an arm around Harry’s neck and pulls him in for a hug.

“Everything happens for a reason,” Harry murmurs. “Meeting Niall happened for a reason – even if the only reason was to just be friends. I can’t let my feelings for him get in the way of that.”

“Yeah,” Jeff breathes. “Guess that makes you pretty brave after all.”

Harry laughs.

“Just…maybe you should steer clear for a while. Let Niall settle in, let your heart mend itself at least a little bit before you go tearing it shreds again.”

Harry raises a sceptical eyebrow. “And here I thought _I_ was the deep thinker.”

Jeff snorts. “You _are_ , which is why you’re in this mess in the first place. I’m just trying to look out for you, H.”

“I know,” Harry whispers as he pushes himself out of Jeff’s arms. “I’m sorry I don’t listen to you.”

“Just know that if this ever happens again with someone else, I _will_ tell them to leave you alone.”

Harry laughs to himself as Jeff leaves the room and thinks that, yeah, that will probably be for the best – _if_ it ever happens again with someone else.

For now, though, he pushes himself to his feet and follows Jeff through to kitchen, where he has started to help Glenne put the rest of the groceries away. He starts to snoop through the remaining bags to see what he can make for dinner, despite the fact that he doesn’t have an appetite – because, for now, it’s the only thing he can do to keep himself from falling apart.

X

Niall places the last cardboard box on the kitchen counter and at the same time he lets out a long breath. He turns around, takes in the state of the freshly painted walls and cupboards, of the still-unopened boxes scattered across the floor and the counters. The open concept allows him to see further, into the living room, where the couch is still wrapped in plastic and where are there are even _more_ boxes – those ones labelled ‘living room’.

Niall hates moving. Hopefully this is the last time they’ll have to move for a very, very long time.

"Is that the last of it?" Ashton asks as he walks through the back door. He wipes one forearm across his forehead whilst using his other hand to close the door.

"The very last one," Niall confirms.

They stare at each other in silence for a moment, twin looks of astonishment on their faces, before Ashton grins and crosses the room.

"We're officially home owners, Niall," Ashton hums as he curls his arms around Niall's neck. “I mean, it was official before today, but now it’s like…officially official. This is our _home_ , Ni."

"Mmm," Niall murmurs, pressing their lips together and winds his arms around Ashton’s waist. "It's not a home until we've unpacked every _last_ box."

Ashton shrugs. "Technicalities."

"Also, we need to take the truck back,” Niall remembers. “I can take it back while you start unpacking?"

" _Or_ , we can both take it back,” Ashton says, nipping at Niall’s lips. “ _And then_ we can both christen the bedroom when we get back.” He pauses to nose gently at Niall’s jaw. “And then we can start unpacking."

Niall pulls back and pretends to look thoughtful before a smirk tugs at his lips. "You drive a hard bargain but yeah, alright."

Ashton laughs whilst tugging Niall along, towards the front door, by the sleeve of his jumper. The quicker they take the truck back, the quicker they can come _home_.

X

There’s a familiar tap on Niall’s cubicle wall two days later, and he doesn’t even really have to look up to know who it is. When he does, though, it’s to see Harry standing on the other side of it, arms folded across the top, chin resting atop his wrists, with a coffee cup in one hand.

Harry raises an eyebrow at him. "You look like hell,” he snickers.

"Thanks," Niall mutters sarcastically as he leans back in his chair. "You're a real charmer, has anyone told you that?"

"Can't be nice to you all the time, it'll go to your head."

Niall hums.

"I brought you a coffee."

Niall more or less leaps to his feet to retrieve the coffee cup, savours the warmth between his hands and the smell of the beans before promptly taking a sip and then revelling in the taste. "You're a life saver."

"Judging by the last time you texted me back last night, I figured it was a late night for you," Harry explains. And he would be correct, seeing as the last time Niall text him back it was approximately 12:30, and he’d stayed up for about another hour after that with Ashton.

"That's an understatement."

Harry cocks a curious eyebrow. "How'd it go?"

Niall hesitates briefly before asking, "You really want to know?"

"Genuinely, yes,” Harry replies, with a subtle nod of his head.

Niall stares at him for a moment longer. He can’t see any lingering signs of regret or jealousy and thus decides to continue. "I think we're about three-quarters of the way done. The master bedroom, the living room, kitchen and dining room and the master bathroom is done. All that's left, really, are the other bedrooms and the bathrooms."

"Not bad timing," Harry observes.

"What are you doing here anyway?" Niall asks, then, if for no other reason than to change the subject. Talking about the move, about Ashton, to Harry just makes him feel weird now; it makes him feel awkward. He’s sure it’ll pass eventually, but for now he’d rather just…avoid it until it does.

Harry shrugs nonchalantly. "Came to see Nick, but Nick was busy, so-"

"So I'm second best, then?"

"No, you're first best,” the brunette insists. “I just owe Nick a lunch date, that’s all. You want to tag along?"

Niall scoffs, rolls his eyes in response. "And be a third wheel, no thanks. I’m not that desperate."

"You're an ass,” Harry laughs. He reaches over the wall, then, and tugs at Niall’s jumper with the tips of his fingers. “C'mon, you could use the energy; you're looking a bit pale."

"I'm Irish, I'm always pale."

" _Niall_ ," Harry says firmly, his gaze stern as he glares at Niall’s face

"Alright, alright,” Niall sighs playfully as he reaches sideways to grab his wallet off his desk. He stuffs the wallet into the back pocket of his jeans, rolls his sleeves up to his elbows – because it’s warmer outside than it is in here – and then falls into step beside Harry, on the way to Nick’s cubicle. “I'll have lunch with you, but you owe me.” 

X

"So we should be throwing you a housewarming party, is what you're saying," Nick says before stuffing a chip into his mouth.

"No," Niall says, at the same time Harry replies, "Yes."

It’s not that Nick hadn’t already known that Niall and Ashton had bought a house, it’s just, well- Nick has only just realized that Niall and Ashton have bought a _house_. His sudden interest and enthusiasm about it is a bit amusing, if Niall’s honest. (It would probably be fully amusing if Harry wasn’t sitting right across from him as well – despite Harry’s ‘yes’ to Nick’s last remark.)

"I'm gonna go with Harold,” Nick drawls, throwing his arm around the back of Harry’s chair. He pops another chip into his mouth. “Housewarming party it is."

Niall sighs. "Guys, I really don't-"

"Don't you dare say you don't need a house-warming party,” Nick snaps, throwing a chip off of his plate at him. “ _Everyone_ needs a house-warming party. I'd have one once a month if it was socially acceptable."

"Of course you would," Niall snorts. "Because you're _ridiculous_."

Nick rolls his eyes dramatically. "Says the bloke who doesn't want to have himself a house-warming party."

Out of the corner of his eye, Niall sees Harry looking between them both, a soft, gentle smile on his lips. "What are _you_ smiling at?"

Harry shrugs. "Just admiring my two best friends."

"I'm not sure 'best friend' is strong enough a term for one of us,” Nick snorts, “but sure."

Niall clears his throat awkwardly, takes a bite of his club sandwich as he looks away, whilst Harry shifts uncomfortably in his seat. It’s one thing for either of them to acknowledge the way things…are between them – but it’s something else entirely for other people.

"Oh c'mon, obviously I'm talking about me,” Nick scoffs, obviously picking up on his mistake. “More like a _brother_ , aren't I?"

Harry snorts, rolls his eyes as he shoves a fork full of salad – in other words: lettuce – into his mouth. "Whatever you say, Grim."

"I say I gotta piss before we head back," Nick says, as he pushes himself to his feet. He ruffles Harry’s hair, and claps Niall on the back before he takes off towards the loo.

"We don't actually have to have a party if you don't want to,” Harry tells Niall, then, taking advantage of Nick’s absence. “I’ll talk him out of it if you’d rather. It would be fun though." He’s talking about the party itself, not the housewarming aspect of it – and Niall knows it.

Niall shrugs, popping another chip into his mouth. "Nah, it's fine. I think Ashton would probably love to have one anyway. He likes that kind of thing.”

Harry nods, gaze falling down absentmindedly to look at his meal. Niall can see the tension in his shoulders, can hear it in his voice and recognize it in his eyes. Harry puts on a brave face; a smile and a laugh and it’s radiant, as always, but Niall can see straight through it. He knows Harry is hurting, that he’s struggling. And Niall can’t blame him because, well, there’s a part of Niall that’s struggling too.

"You don't have to come, you know,” Niall whispers. Instinct is what makes him place his hand over Harry’s, but it’s the way Harry looks at him – like Niall is his anchor – that makes Niall stroke his thumb over the space between Harry’s thumb and the rest of his hand. “If you don't want to."

"No, I want to,” Harry insists softly. “I want to support you. Even if, you know..."

Niall frowns “Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

X

There’s a party is in full swing less than a week later, courtesy (mostly) of Nicholas Grimshaw.

In reality, though, it’s really just more of a large… _get together_ , for lack of a better term, spread out across the main floor. Niall's friends are here – Louis and Eleanor, Eoghan and Bressie, Barbara and Laura – along with some of his and Nick’s co-workers, Daisy and Matty and their significant others, Nick’s boyfriend Michael, Ashton's friends from work – Mikey and Calum, and Luke, Ashton’s other good friend, is here too. There are a few other people as well, friends of friends – like Harry’s friends, but Niall doesn’t mind, really, just as long as nothing gets broken, or stolen. (He’s not worried, but he’s also already told everyone that he’ll be keeping tabs.)

There's alcohol and food on every surface of the living room _and_ kitchen. Mikey and Calum are playing Fifa, Bressie and Eoghan are playing beer pong on the dining room table – and Louis, being Louis, has even hung up decorations against one of the walls and brought along some rather inappropriate props for a photo booth – which was actually Nick’s idea. The photo booth is actually pretty popular though, so Niall will give them that.

Harry is alone in the kitchen, mixing his fourth drink in two hours (never mind the shot of Tequila), when Niall finds him. (Niall’s actually a bit surprised that the kitchen is otherwise empty.)

"Did anyone ever tell you you drink like a fish?" Niall teases, coming up beside him.

"Well I'm not Irish so I can't drink like one of those, can I?" Harry shoots back, without even missing a beat.

Niall laughs, feels a bit impressed that Harry is still rather quick on his feet. "You alright?" he asks softly, then. He also feels a bit concerned, because despite the party – large gathering – going on around them, Harry has been relatively quiet all night.

"Yeah, mate, I'm great,” Harry says, smiling tight-lipped. It’s a bit fake, Niall knows it is. “You?"

Niall wants to hug him. Wants hold him, and squeeze the tension out of his shoulders; wants to take the sadness out of Harry’s eyes. He wishes he could fix Harry’s broken heart; wishes there was a plaster big enough so he could mend it. (He also, kind of, wants to admit that he’s heartbroken too, but he won’t. He can’t. It wouldn’t be right, and it wouldn’t fix anything. It wouldn’t help either of them, least of all Harry.)

Instead, he lifts his empty glass, dangles it playfully in front of Harry’s face, and smiles. "Make me one of them too?" he asks, referring to the drink Harry has just finished mixing for himself.

Harry smirks, "As you wish."

Niall climbs up onto the counter beside Harry, watches silently as the brunette pours various liquids Niall can’t be arsed to pay attention to into his glass. His gaze settles mostly on Harry’s face – on the greens of his eyes, and his sun-kissed skin, and the light flush of his cheeks from the alcohol, and his pretty, wet lips. He wants to run his hands through Harry’s long hair, thinks he could kiss Harry just like this if only things were different.

"Haz, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

Niall takes a deep breath – or, at least he tries to. He suddenly finds it hard to breathe. "Why have you never asked me to leave him?"

Harry shrugs, before looking at him. "What exactly was I meant to say? _'Hey, Niall, why don't you leave a boy you've loved for eight years to be with me?'_ Seems a bit...selfish."

"It's not like people don't do that," Niall points out, although he isn’t entirely sure why it matters. Nor is he entirely certain what this conversation is supposed to accomplish for him.

"I care about you, Niall,” Harry replies, handing him back his glass. “And I want you to do whatever makes you happy – and if Ashton makes you happier than I do then, who am I to say otherwise?"

"You're perfect," Niall breathes. His chest feels tight, but in a good way. It kind of feels great, actually. "D'you know that? You're, like, the perfect person. And you deserve to be happy too."

Harry looks at him. Just looks. Green eyes boring into blue, and it feels like Harry can see right into his soul. It feels like everything Niall has, and is, and feels is on display for Harry. And Harry only. It’s a little bit overwhelming.

Niall can feel himself blushing, can feel the heat falling down his neck. "Stop looking at me like that,” he whispers.

"Like what?" Harry asks softly. There’s an innocence in his voice, which tells Niall that he might not even be sure that he knows how he looks at Niall.

"Like I'm you're entire world."

Harry stays silent for a moment, but he continues to look at Niall. His gaze flickers from Niall’s eyes, to his lips, and then back up. And then he’s licking his lips and shrugging his shoulders as he rests a hip against the edge of the counter beside Niall’s knee. "I don't know any other way to look at you."

Niall leans in. But instead of kissing Harry, like he wants to, he simply rests his forehead against Harry's. He keeps his hands to himself, brushes his nose against Harry’s, and closes his eyes.

And Harry nods, like he understands why.

X

Niall stares, concentration and determination written all over his face, across the dining table, to where there’s one red solo cup in the center on the other side. It’s him and Ashton against Louis and Eleanor; couple against couple. The game is tied, each team only having one more cup left to get, and it’s Niall’s turn. If he gets the ball into the cup, then Louis will only have one chance at a challenge-throw, and if Louis misses, then Ashton and Niall win the game.

It’s a very serious game, beer pong is.

Ashton’s standing behind him, hands on his own hips as he looks, quietly and carefully over Niall’s shoulder. “You’ve got this, babe,” he murmurs, before taking a slight step back.

The rest of the dining house is quiet, watching silently and intently.

Niall goes for it, watches the ball fly through the air and sink straight into the cup. He receives an applause in response, and Louis receives some playful taunts. Louis, who shrugs them off, gulps down the beer from a secondary cup that Harry hands him, and then plucks the ball out of the cup in front of him.

“Tell me I’ve got this, babe,” Louis says to Eleanor, grinning cheekily. He winks across the table at Niall and Ashton.

Eleanor rolls her eyes playfully, but giggles nonetheless as she rubs a hand down Louis’ back. “You’ve got this, Lou.”

“Thank you.”

Except Louis doesn’t have anything – because he misses. Instead of landing in the cup, the ball sails through the air, over the cup and hits Niall square in the center of his chest.

The house erupts in cheers and applause, playful taunts and catcalls. Niall roars victoriously, teases Louis by sticking his tongue out at him. Ashton yelps, and cheers, and curls his arms around Niall’s shoulders and presses a sloppy kiss to Niall’s cheek. “Told ya,” Ashton murmurs in his ear, then, and then Niall’s craning his neck to get a look at him and Ashton’s stealing another kiss, this one from Niall’s lips.

The kiss receives even more cheers, and plenty of catcalls – which is, ultimately, the reason it doesn’t last long.

Ashton gets pulled away, then, and Louis swoops in for a handshake, while Eleanor comes in for a hug, and that’s when Niall’s gaze lands on Harry. Harry, who’s already looking at Niall. Harry, who plasters a smile to his lips (but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes) and gives him a silent thumbs up. Harry, who is sad, but pretends not to be for Niall’s sake.

X

He needs some time to himself for a bit, which is how he winds up in the kitchen rinsing the empty food dishes before placing them neatly in the dishwasher. He’s got a thing about cleanliness and organization, even when he’s half in the bag.

It’s also how Ashton finds him.

“Hey, party pooper,” Ashton murmurs playfully, as he slips his arms around Niall’s waist. He rests his chin on Niall’s shoulder, and sags forward against him. “What’s going on, baby?” he asks softly.

Niall hums as he leans back, tips his head back against his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I just needed to be alone for a bit,” he replies. “Get away from everyone…”

Ashton kisses his neck. “Does ‘everyone’ include me too?”

The blond pretends to think about it for a minute, looks up at the ceiling to act like he’s in deep thought. “Nah,” he whispers a moment later. “You can stay, I guess.”

Ashton pulls back, pretends to look scandalized and offended. “You _guess_? Rude.”

Niall snickers as he turns around to face him. “I’m joking,” he says softly. He leans back against the counter behind him, tugs Ashton closer by the fabric of his t-shirt until they’re standing against each other. “You know I love having you around.”

“Good thing, huh?” Ashton asks rhetorically, smirking teasingly. “Otherwise living together, in this beautiful house, would be a complete disaster.”

Niall shrugs. “I mean, not a _complete_ disaster. At the very least, I’d certainly be able to tolerate you.”

“Good to know.”

“I just happen to love you instead, that’s all”

Ashton grins. “ _That’s all_ ,” he echoes.

Niall leans in, presses their lips together softly. “That’s it, that’s all.”

“Done deal.”

“Sold.”

Ashton runs a hand through Niall’s hair when he pulls back, looks at him properly, lovingly. “You’re okay, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Niall says.

“We can go outside for a bit if you’re feeling claustrophobic.”

“It’s not that, I just- Needed a breather,” he explains.

“ASHTON!” someone – Calum, Niall thinks – yells from the other room.

Niall laughs as Ashton rolls his eyes, because Ashton looks more fond than he does annoyed. “Go. I’ll join you in a bit.”

“Yeah?”

“Go.”

Ashton smiles, kisses Niall and slaps Niall’s bum, before he turns and leaves the room.

He doesn’t ask why Niall had needed a breather, and that’s more than okay with Niall.

X

There’s a chill in the hair, one that’s a bit damp, but also incredibly refreshing. It’s dark outside now, and the sky is clear, which doesn’t happen very often in in England.

Niall has always loved the night sky. Loves the moon, and the stars, and the constellations in the stars. It’s been a long time since he’s been able to see them this clearly, and it reminds him of late nights back home, in Ireland. Nights where he couldn’t sleep, so he’d climb out onto the rooftop outside his bedroom window, and stare up at the sky; nights where he could hear his parents fighting so he’d look through his telescope and count all the constellations that he could see; nights where he and Ashton would pitch a tent in the backyard, and he’d talk to Ashton about space and stars and planets for hours even though he knew that Ashton wasn’t _really_ listening.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of the back door sliding open, and he looks over his shoulder to watch Harry step out of the house. He smiles, cocks his head and motions for Harry to come out, to come closer – so Harry shuts the door behind him and does just that.

Harry stands beside him, hands shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans. He doesn’t do, or say anything. He just stands with Niall, looks up at the sky with Niall, smiles softly and fondly with Niall.

"You know, I loved living in the city,” Niall says softly, a few minutes later. “Aside from the fact that it was so close to, well, everything it was just so...lively. It was fun, you know?"

"Like you," Harry hums cheekily.

"But I think I'm really gonna like living on the outskirts. The stars shine brighter out here than they do in the city and it feels...homey."

Harry’s smile widens – and Niall’s glad to see that this one reaches his eyes. "Also like you." He knocks his shoulder against Niall’s gently, and Niall knocks back.

As if on cue, then, something crashes inside the house; it sounds like glass hitting the hardwood floor. Niall’s eyes widen, and he stares at Harry – whose eyes are just as wide – for a brief moment before he bolts inside. Harry’s hot on his heels, rushing in behind him. Niall stops suddenly, stands in the entranceway to the living room, and Harry nearly collides with his back.

Ashton is standing in the middle of the room, the shards to his broken wine glass scattered across the floor at his feet. He has his phone in one hand, and a truly heartbroken look covering his ashen face. Luke is next to him, one hand on his shoulder, whilst everyone else in the room is just…staring at him – at both of them.

"Ash," Niall murmurs, stepping forward hesitantly. "Babe, what's-"

"Don't," Ashton hisses. He shrugs out of Luke’s grasp, and then backs away from Niall, looking betrayed. "Don't call me that."

Niall freezes. He feels stunned, like Ashton has just slapped him, or something. Ashton has never spoken to him like this, let alone looked at him the way he’s looking at him. His eyebrows come together in confusion, as his stomach churns, sick with worry. "Ashton-" he cuts himself when Ashton tosses his phone across the space between them and he fumbles to keep it, too, from hitting the floor.

On the screen is a picture – or, rather, a still from Louis’ video – of Niall and Harry kissing. Harry’s hands are cupping Niall’s face, and Niall’s arms are wrapped tight around Harry’s waist, his fingers clutching at the fabric of Harry’s jacket. His heart jumps into his throat, and it feels like it’s beating hard against his temples, his knees feel a bit weak, like his legs could collapse at any moment and his mouth feels like sandpaper. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this utterly, painfully sick before.

"Where...where did you find this?" he asks, though he barely even hears himself speak over the sound of his heart racing frantically.

Ashton scoffs in disbelief. " _That's_ your concern? Forget the fact that you’re fucking kissing him, right? Because where I found the video is your main concern."

"No, I-" he cuts himself off again as his gaze lands on Louis, who's coming towards him slowly.

Louis looks like he wants to explain himself. "Niall-"

"You were supposed to delete it – why didn't you delete it?" Niall demands, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He feels white hot anger and frustration, but he also feels sad and scared and guilty. This was never supposed to happen. This never _should have_ happened.

"I took it off YouTube, but I had to keep it up on my website – it's part of my portfolio-"

"Your _portfolio_?!" Niall squawks. His heart feels like it’s trying to beat out of his throat.

Ashton shakes his head in disbelief and turns to walk away, then. He’s moving towards the staircase, when Niall follows, curling a hand around Ashton’s wrist to stop him. Ashton doesn’t even seem to have it in him to pull himself away again.

"Ashton, babe- Just, please let me explain," Niall begs, eyes burning with unshed tears.

"There's nothing to explain."

"There is-"

"You _kissed_ him, Niall!” Ashton shouts, his voice breaking when he says Niall’s name. His voice is loud, though, and it’s drenched in betrayal, soaked in pain. He looks, and sounds, every bit of a person scorned, and Niall wants nothing more than to pull him into his arms and make it go away. “You kissed him, you kept it from me – and you've been hanging out with him ever since. For all I know, you've been chea-" Ashton’s voice cuts off, then, and he looks like he's going to be sick.

Niall shakes his head. "I haven't been. Ashton, I promise, Harry and I are just friends-"

"'Just friends' my ass," Ashton mutters. He twists his wrist until it breaks free from Niall’s grip, and-

That’s when Harry steps forward, stands behind Niall. "He's telling the truth, we're-"

"Shut up,” Ashton hisses, his eyes turning into slits as he glares over Niall’s shoulder at him. He even takes a step forward, looks like he’s about to lunge except that he holds himself back. “Shut the fuck up, you don't get to fucking talk to me. Not when I know _exactly_ how you feel about my boyfriend."

Niall swears his heart stops. His brows furrow in confusion as he looks right into Ashton’s face. How could Ashton possibly know how Harry feels about him? _How long_ has Ashton known how Harry feels about him? He watches, with bated breath, as a bitter, sarcastic grin spreads across his boyfriend’s lips – a thing he never, in a million years, thought he would ever see marring Ashton’s pretty face.

"I'm not a fucking idiot – and I'm not fucking blind,” Ashton drawls, sounding less than impressed. “I've seen the way you look at him. It’s the same way I’ve been looking at Niall for the last eight years. Come to think of it,” he pauses, but only long enough for his gaze to settle on Niall, “I've seen the way _you_ look at _him_ too.”

It feels like the oxygen is sucked out of the air completely, with how hard Niall struggles to breath. "Ash," he whispers helplessly.

"And _you_ ," Ashton hisses, whirling around to glare at Louis, who sort of shrinks back. "I get Zayn not saying anything about it to me, as antisocial as he is – but _you_? I know you don't like me very much, but I would've thought you'd be a decent enough person to tell me."

Luke steps forward, then, and stands in between Ashton and Louis with a hand on Ashton's shoulder. "I think the party's over,” he says, looking around the room. “Everybody out."

At that, everyone else starts filing out (rather quickly, and quietly) through the front hall. Niall had honestly forgotten that they were all there, and if he thought before that he couldn’t feel any worse for Ashton finding out that he kissed Harry the way he did, then he’s wrong. Because he can, and he _does_. (Because on top of feeling hurt and betrayed, Ashton probably also feels incredibly humiliated.)

Harry’s the last to leave. He’s got his boots on, and he’s holding his jacket in his hand when he turns back to look at Niall. "You okay?"

Niall's eyes are still burning with tears that still haven’t and his chest is tight, like someone's got a hand inside and is squeezing his heart between their fingers, bleeding it dry. He shakes his head, because he’s not okay.

"I can stay, if you want..."

"You might as well, since apparently you're a part of this relationship too," Ashton says bitterly. He’s taken to tidying up the living room already, collecting red solo cups.

Niall stares at him, arms crossed over his chest, before he looks at Harry. "Just- You should go."

Harry raises an eyebrow. "Yeah? You're sure?"

Niall nods, and then Harry leaves. The door clicks closed behind him, and Niall is suddenly all too aware of how… _empty_ and _quiet_ the house is.

And Niall and Ashton are alone.

"Tell me the truth," Ashton demands.

Niall turns around to look at him, finds him standing in the middle of the living room, several empty solo cups in each hand. Ashton looks about as exhausted at Niall feels. "I haven't been cheating on you, Ash, I swear," he says softly. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?" Ashton asks, sounding small.

Niall opens his mouth to respond, only to gape like a fish and then close it again. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to explain himself without hurting Ashton even more. His mouth feels a lot like sandpaper as he watches Ashton put the cups in his hand with the others on the dining room table. He watches silently as Ashton leans, then, against the table and clutches the edges of it with his hands.

"Were you bored?” Ashton asks when Niall doesn’t say anything. “Is that why agreed to take part in Louis' stupid video in begin with? Is that why you struck up a _casual_ friendship with Harry? Did it excite you to be friends with some random bloke you snogged behind my back-"

"Ashton, stop-"

"Stop what? I'm just trying to understand what the fuck's been going through your head for the last several months, Niall. Help me understand-"

"I don't know!" Niall shouts. He blinks at his own admission. He does know though, technically, he just…can’t bring himself to say it out loud, not to Ashton. "I don't- I dunno."

Ashton snorts, rolls his eyes. "At least we're on the same fucking page, then."

Niall sighs softly as he comes around the side of the table to be closer to Ashton. His heart clenches when Ashton moves away – again. "It was just a kiss, Ash,” he murmurs, letting his hands fall to his sides. And then it’s like the floodgates have opened, and Niall’s not even sure if he would stop himself if he could. “It was – stupid, and meaningless and... And then it wasn't because I thought about it a lot, even though I tried not to. And then I ran into him when I went out with Grimmy and the boys one evening after work, and it turned out that Harry and Grimmy were friends and so we started to see a lot of each other and we had a lot in common so we hung out a couple times and I thought we could be friends – _just_ friends-"

"But?"

"But...I dunno. Something happened, and..."

Ashton blinks at him, and his cheek caves in – the way it does when he’s biting on the inside because he’s anxious. "What happened?"

"Oh – no, nothing like- Not like that,” Niall says quickly. “Nothing happened, and I made it clear that nothing ever could happen because I love you, Ash – I love you."

Ashton’s brow furrows in confusion. "Then what _happened_ , Niall?"

The blond licks his lips, shifts from one foot to the other, forces himself to breathe, and prays that he doesn’t pass out. His stomach churns with a fresh wave of nausea. "Don't make me say it-"

"Fuck you,” Ashton grinds out viciously. “ _Say it._ You don't get to not have to say it."

Niall swallows hard around the lump in his throat. He hates this; hates knowing that he’s going to break Ashton’s heart for a second time tonight; hates knowing that Ashton knows it too. "I started to develop feelings for him,” he admits, his voice barely more audible than a whisper. “But I never acted on them, please believe that, Ashton. _Please._ I never-"

Ashton folds his arms across his chest, like he’s trying to hold himself together because he looks like he’s only seconds from falling apart. "Did he ever act on his?"

"He wasn't very shy about talking about it, but he tried not to act on it. Out of respect for us, he-"

" _'Out of respect for us'_ – really, Niall?” Ashton scoffs. His accompanying laugh sounds bitter. “Do you hear yourself? If he respected us at all, he would've stayed away from _both_ of us. Hell, if _you_ respected _us_ at all you would have stayed the fuck away from _him_."

"We were just friends," Niall insists.

"Except you weren't, were you? Not really. How can you be _just friends_ with someone you're falling in love with?"

Niall blinks. He knows Ashton has a point, knows deep down that even Louis was right for all that he said about Niall and Harry being just friends. But at the end of the day, their mutual feelings for each other aside, they were just two blokes who were _just friends_. Right?

"Did you even think about me? About _us_ – while you were gallivanting around the city with _him_ and _falling in love with him_? Did you ever give a single thought to what it could do to us? To _me_?"

"O-of course I did-"

Ashton shakes his head. "I don't think you did.”

"I did, Ash. I thought about it all the time-"

"Then we weren't very important, were we?"

"Of course we were – _we are_ , Ashton."

"Not as important as _him_ though, right? You've made that much abundantly clear."

It’s Niall’s turn to shake his head. "That's not true-"

"How is that not true? You've been choosing him over me from day one, Niall."

"I just bought a _house_ with you, Ash."

Ashton snorts bitterly, rolls his eyes and arches one sceptical eyebrow. "Is that all you've got? _You bought a house with me_ and suddenly everything should be okay? _You bought a house with me_ , so I should just forget that you _kissed another bloke_? That you've _fallen in love with him_?"

Niall opens his mouth to respond, but Ashton cuts him off-

"You bought a house with me, Niall, because I practically _begged_ you to. And even then, you dragged your feet the whole time, like you were trying to put it off until-" he cuts himself off, then, and his eyes widen with sudden recognition. Niall can practically see the wheels turning in his head, and he finds himself holding his breath. "Oh my God. Oh- You'd been putting it off until you could figure out who it was you actually wanted to be with..."

And that surprises Niall because, well, Ashton isn’t exactly wrong – because he’s sort of half right, Niall supposes. He’d had cold feet in the beginning, sure, but it was really only after meeting Harry that he’d truly started to put the house hunting off. It’s not that he’d ever not wanted to be with Ashton, it’s just that…Harry was a distraction, which Niall had needed, and then it had grown into Niall sort of wanting to be with Harry too.

"Do you even want to be with me?” Ashton asks softly – and, again, his voice sounds incredibly small, like he’s unsure whether or not he truly wants to know the answer. “Or do you just feel like you have to be?"

Niall steps forward, then, and this time Ashton doesn’t move away. This time, Ashton lets Niall reach out to him, lets Niall cup his face between his hands, lets Niall pull him down ever-so gently until their foreheads are touching, until Niall can see the gold hue in Ashton’s irises. "I love you, Ashton," Niall whispers. "I love you so much.”

"That doesn't answer my question."

"I want to be with you," Niall replies, stroking his thumbs over Ashton’s cheekbones.

Ashton blinks. "Why?"

"Because... I've always wanted to be with you."

"Bullshit,” Ashton mutters. He pushes his hands against Niall’s chest, shakes his head as he pushes Niall away. He pushes until Niall, grudgingly, lets go. “That's such – _bullshit_ , Niall. It's a bullshit answer."

"But I have,” Niall says sternly. “It's always been you, for me."

Ashton laughs. "Yeah, until Harry came along. And then suddenly it was both of us and you needed to buy yourself time to decide whether or not it was actually _me_. That's not the same thing as it always being me, Niall."

Niall sighs, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I don't...I don't know what you want me to say. I'm here, Ashton – with _you_. I'm with you."

Ashton licks his lips as he shakes his head, looks up at the ceiling with wet eyes as he puts his own hands on his hips. "That doesn't mean anything to me anymore. You can 'be here with me' all you want, but it doesn't change the fact that a little piece of you wants to be somewhere else too – and I know for a fact that that's true, Niall. I know it is."

Niall’s heart breaks when Ashton’s voice breaks before silence swallows them both. He doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what to do – especially because he knows that Ashton is right, and the last thing Ashton needs is for Niall to keep lying to him. One thing he knows he does want, however, is to take Ashton into his arms; he wants to hug Ashton, and hold Ashton, and reassure Ashton that he _does_ love him, that he always has. He wants to tell Ashton that even though everything has changed tonight, nothing else has to – that they can move forward, move on, keep moving and loving each other-

"You should sleep on the couch."

Niall blinks, taken aback. His brow furrows in genuine confusion, even though he knows exactly what Ashton means, and why he’s said it. Ashton has never made him sleep on the couch before. But then, Ashton has never had to – until now, evidently. "A-Ash-"

Ashton’s moving around him, then, and he’s heading back towards the staircase – and it’s like Niall’s feet have been glued to floor because he can’t move. "I'll get you some extra pillows and a blanket from the closet upstairs."

"Ashton-"

"Don't," the Ashton mutters. He stops halfway up the stair just to turn his head around and look at him, and Niall hates how broken and lost he looks. "Just – don't."

Ashton and Niall both go to bed alone; Ashton to their bedroom, with the door closed, and Niall on the sofa in the living room.

Niall doesn't sleep though, not really. The sofa is comfy, but Niall can’t get comfortable. Nor can he turn his brain off from the pictures of Ashton’s face and the sound of Ashton’s voice rotating over and over again. He feels sick. Devastated. Heartbroken. Lonely. But it's nothing compared to how Ashton must be feeling – and that's what keeps Niall awake more than anything else.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you doing?"
> 
> "We haven't had eggy bread in ages,” Niall explains, as he rinses the remaining egg and milk mixture down the drain in the sink, “so I figured I'd make some for breakfast and-"
> 
> "No, Niall, what are you _doing_?"
> 
> Niall shrugs as he looks back over his shoulder at his boyfriend, a soft, tentative smile tugging at his lips. "I'm making you breakfast. I just-" That’s when he notices the suitcase sitting on the tiles at Ashton's feet. Ashton, who looks ready to head out the door in his black boots, Ray Bans hung on the neck of a white t-shirt. Niall is sure that his heart drops into the pit of his stomach. "W-What are _you_ doing?"
> 
> Ashton takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna stay with Luke for a couple days-"

[Chapter Ten]

Niall gets up early to make breakfast. It's lame, he’s sure, and it's probably a bit cliché – making an 'I'm sorry' breakfast for, more or less, cheating on his boyfriend, but it's the only thing he can think of to do. It’s the only way he can think of to break the ice after Ashton comes downstairs.

He wants to talk. He wants to sit down, over a meal and a coffee – so that he, at the very least, has something to do with his hands, and he wants to talk to Ashton. Wants to figure things out. Wants to fix things.

_Has_ to fix things.

Ashton walks into the kitchen a little while after Niall has plopped the fourth and last egg-soaked slice of bread into the pan he’s heated on the stove. The butterflies in Niall’s stomach come to life at the mere sound of Ashton’s voice.

"What are you doing?"

"We haven't had eggy bread in ages,” Niall explains, as he rinses the remaining egg and milk mixture down the drain in the sink, “so I figured I'd make some for breakfast and-"

"No, Niall, what are you _doing_?"

Niall shrugs as he looks back over his shoulder at his boyfriend, a soft, tentative smile tugging at his lips. "I'm making you breakfast. I just-" That’s when he notices the suitcase sitting on the tiles at Ashton's feet. Ashton, who looks ready to head out the door in his black boots, Ray Bans hung on the neck of a white t-shirt. Niall is sure that his heart drops into the pit of his stomach. "W-What are _you_ doing?"

Ashton takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair. "I'm gonna stay with Luke for a couple days-"

"Ashton-"

"I just, I need to clear my head a bit,” he says quickly, shoving both hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “And then I need to wrap it around, well, _everything_. And then I'll need to make a decision and-"

Niall blinks, taken aback. "You can't be serious, Ashton."

"I can't even stand to look at you right now, Niall,” Ashton whispers. He looks sad for his own admission, eyes shining with tears just like the night before as he looks at Niall. “I– It's like everything hurts and I just...can't-"

"Okay," Niall whispers, closing the spaces between them. He stands in front of Ashton, takes Ashton's face in his hands, ignores the way his heart aches when the other boy flinches. "I get that, I do. But we- This is something we have to _talk_ about, Ash. That's why I'm making breakfast, so we can start talking instead of arguing – and we can't do that if you're not here."

Ashton closes his eyes. "I can't."

"Ashton-"

"Niall, I just can't, okay?” Ashton pauses, opens his eyes to look directly at him. “I need some time."

Niall let's his hands fall away from Ashton's face. He shrinks back, feels the ache in his heart getting worse, feels sick to his stomach. He doesn’t want Ashton to go. He wants to talk about this now – wants to fix it now, because what if Ashton goes away for a few days, and they never get another chance? What if Ashton doesn’t come back? What if he sends Luke to collect his things, and-

"The least you owe me is some time to process what you've done,” Ashton says firmly, though his voice shakes in spite of himself. “I just need time, Niall."

"Okay,” Niall sighs. Because how can he keep Ashton here against his will? How can he even expect Ashton to want to stay? “Alright, just- Call me if you need anything, or if you just want to talk, or-"

"I know."

Niall nods. “Okay.”

"Sorry, if you're wasting food."

The blond shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest in what he recognizes as a vain attempt to keep himself together. "You know me; bottomless pit,” he jokes. He can’t find it himself to laugh though; thinks he might hurt himself if he tries.

Except Niall doesn't even eat his own portion; he can't stomach it. Instead, he throws out both portions into the bin in the corner next to the refrigerator, and dumps the coffee in the pot down the drain before heading upstairs to take a shower.

At least when he cries, the scalding hot water from the showerhead will wash away his tears.

X

"LOUIS!” Niall shouts at the top of his voice, barging past Eleanor the second she opens the door for him. “Where is he, El? _Louis Tomlinson!_ "

"Niall, he's-"

"Jesus Christ, Nialler," Louis complains as he comes down the stairs from the second floor. He’s wearing nothing but sweatpants. "Can you yell any louder, d'ya think?"

"Don't tempt me," Niall growls, eyebrows furrowed in anger, hands balled into fists at his sides. 

"I'll take it from here, love," Louis murmurs against Eleanor's temple as he slips an arm around her waist and presses a kiss there. 

Eleanor nods. "Just don't break anything,” she says softly. “I'll be back later." She gives Niall a sad, apologetic smile as she squeezes his forearm on the way back towards the front door. Said front door closes behind her with a click – and Niall whirls on Louis immediately.

"You're such a fucking prick, Tommo," Niall hisses. 

Louis sighs, "Look-"

"No, _you_ 'look'," Niall snaps, effectively cutting him off. "You _told me_ you were going to take it down, which means you should have taken it the _fuck down_ , Louis. Taking it off of one platform but keeping it on another isn't _taking it down_ – what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with _me_?" Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What the fuck's wrong with _you_ , Niall?"

"Fuck you!" the blond shouts, shoving hard at Louis' chest. He’s not a violent person by any means, but the amount of anger and frustration and betrayal rushing through him feels like it’s going to make him explode if he doesn’t do something. "It was _your_ idea, and it was because you were fucking stubborn that I even did this in the first place."

Louis snorts, hands on his hips. "Oh is that right? Because, and correct me if I'm wrong, but you did say 'no' to me – numerous times. It was _Harry_ who convinced you. You didn't do it for _me_ , you did it-"

"I did it because you couldn't let it go! I did it so you could have your fifth fucking pair, and so that Harry didn't wind up wasting away his whole day for nothing! I did-"

"You don't get it, do you?"

"I get that because of your stupid video, my relationship is-"

"It's not about the video, it's about the fact that you didn't tell Ashton about the video!” Louis yells, which clamps Niall’s mouth shut. “More than that though, Niall, it's about you and Harry."

Niall remains silent, swallows hard around the lump in his throat.

"The fact is, Niall, it wouldn't be as big of a deal for Ashton if you hadn't been carrying on with Harry behind his back-"

"I haven't been _carrying on_ with Harry- Harry and I are just friends."

Louis shakes his head slightly. "I know that's what you've labelled your relationship as, but you and Harry are anything but 'just friends'. He's in love with you, and you're in love with him. And last night solidified it with Ashton."

Niall finds himself biting the inside of his cheek. "Have you spoken to him, then?"

"He called me this morning on his way to Luke's,” Louis says softly. He pulls at Niall’s arm until the blond follows him in the living room. “He wanted to know how much I knew, and whose idea it was for you to kiss Harry for the video. I told him it was mine, and then it was Harry's – and I told him that any time you and I have ever spoken about Harry, you've said that the two of you were just friends."

"What'd he say?"

"He thanked me and then he hung up."

Niall sighs long and hard as he flops back onto the couch across from where Louis is standing. He leans back against the cushion behind him, lets his head fall back as he looks up at the ceiling. He stays there as Louis disappears into the kitchen.

"Have you spoken to Harry?" Louis asks curiously as he reappears, two beer bottles in hand. He pops Niall’s open before handing it to him, and then pops open his own as he joins Niall on the sofa.

Niall shakes his head once before he takes a long sip. "I don't know what to say to him," he whispers after he’s swallowed, allowing his head to fall back once more against the back of the couch.

"You better figure it out soon, then,” Louis murmurs. “You can't not tell him anything at all. It wouldn’t be fair to him after everything that has happened.”

X

Niall's at home, alone, watching TV but not really listening to it or following along when Harry texts him.

_You home?_

He stares at the message for a long couple of minutes. He contemplates ignoring it, but knows he could never actually do that. He couldn’t do that to Harry. Harry deserves better than that – especially, as Louis had pointed out earlier, after everything that has happened. He deserves…something.

_yeah, you busy ?_ he replies.

_I'm in your driveway._

And then, on a perfect cue, the doorbell rings – and Niall finds himself springing into action to get to the front door, heart settled in his throat. Sure enough, Harry's on the other side. Harry looks sort of shy and vulnerable. Sad. Afraid.

"Hey," Niall breathes. 

"Hi,” Harry murmurs. “Is, uh, Ashton here?"

Niall frowns, shakes his head. "He's staying with Luke for a couple days.

"Oh."

"W-why?"

Harry shrugs. "I mean, I know it wouldn't really be worth anything, but I was going to apologize."

Niall's brow furrows in confusion. "For what?"

"For falling in love with his boyfriend-"

"Harry...” Niall gasps. He trails off as he pulls Harry inside, closes the door behind them. “You don't have anything to be sorry for."

"Don't I, though?” Harry asks rhetorically as he toes off his boots. “I basically chased you, I came on incredibly strong, and I-"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Haz,” the blond assures him. “ _I_ did. I knew I was falling for you, and I kept seeing you anyway – because I wanted to. I mean, hell, _I_ should be apologizing to _you_."

Harry shakes his head, licks his lips. "Don't do that-"

"Why not? I’ve clearly not made things easy for you."

"You tried to,” Harry points out, running a hand through his hair. “You tried to put space between us but I didn't let you. Which proves why I need to apologize-"

"Stop," Niall whispers, closing his eyes. He hates this. He hates what it’s done to Ashton – to him and Ashton, and he hates, perhaps even more, what it’s doing to Harry. What’s it’s been doing to Harry; over and over and over again, for days and weeks and months. “Just…don’t, okay? I _know_.”

Harry, for his part, does as he’s told. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Niall shrugs. "Are _you_?"

"It's not about me."

"Harry."

"I'm... I'll be fine."

Niall reaches out to him briefly only to let his hand fall back to his sides. “Haz-"

"Look, it doesn't matter,” Harry says. “It's – you want to make it work with him, I get it. I’ve always known it. Him finding out about us doesn't change that."

Niall argues, internally, that it sort of changes everything. "I owe it to him. I owe it to our relationship. I've always loved him and I need to at least try to fix what I've broken."

Harry nods. "Right. Yeah, I understand,” he whispers. He opens his mouth to say something else, only to close it and smile sadly. “Anyway, I should go."

Niall frowns. "Harry-"

"I have to meet Louis in the morning, he wants to shoot a scene and-"

"Haz," Niall says firmly. Instinct drives him to wrap an arm around Harry's waist before Harry can even try to put his shoes back on, and presses their bodies together to keep him still; to keep him close. Their noses are touching and Niall can't help but stare down at Harry's lips, breathing hard until-

"You can't," Harry murmurs, squirming until Niall releases him. He looks so, incredibly devastated that Niall wants to do it anyway. "You can't, Niall."

"I know,” Niall whispers, shoving his hands into his pockets. He has nothing else to do with them. “And – I know I'm not being fair on you, but just...stay, _please_? For a little while? I just – I want you to stay." He doesn’t want Harry to go. He doesn’t want to say goodbye. He doesn’t want Harry to walk away – not under so much uncertainty. Not when he doesn’t know when he would be able to see him again.

Harry blinks, sniffs back tears. His whole body sort of sags, which Niall knows means that he’s given up and wanting to leave. "Can you say it to me?" Harry murmurs softly, running a shaky hand through his hair. "Just once, can you say it to me? So – so I know it was at least a little bit real?"

"I love you," Niall says, no hint of hesitation. There’s no point in trying to deny it, not anymore. Not even _now_. And besides that, he knows that Harry just needs to _hear_ it. He needs to hear it, and feel it – even if it’s only for a second, before it inevitably goes away. And, if he’s being honest with himself, then _he_ needs to hear himself say it too – as fucked up as that may be, and even if it’s only once. "I'm so in love with you."

Harry lets out a deep breath as he falls into Niall's arms and buries his face in the crook of the blond's neck. And then he cries. And he sobs. And his chest heaves, and his shoulders shake and his arms are tight around Niall’s back – and he clutches at the fabric of Niall’s jumper with his fingers, like he’s afraid of letting go.

The _I just can't be with you_ goes unsaid, on Niall’s part, but it rings in Niall's ears as he bring Harry towards the couch and pulls him back against his chest.  
Niall cries too, but only after Harry has fallen asleep, tucked safe inside his arms.

X

He wakes up alone, on the sofa, for the second morning in a row. He’s still tired, and drowsy, and his back hurts, and he wonders briefly how Harry’s back feels – and that’s how he finds himself sitting up, pushing a hand through his hair as he looks around the living room. There’s a lump in his throat, and his heart is beating far too quickly for this early in the morning, and there might be a rock in the pit of his stomach whilst he searches for any sign of Harry still being there.

Surely Harry hasn’t already left. Surely Harry wouldn’t just leave, especially without saying goodbye. _Would he?_

The soft, muffled sound of something shuffling around in the front hall pulls him out of his thoughts, and he springs into action. In the front hall is where he finds Harry shoving one foot into an old brown boot. Harry only acknowledges him with a brief, barely noticeable smile – one Niall would have missed if he hadn’t been staring – before ducking his down to push his other foot into the other boot.

Harry looks beautiful in the morning, even if he does sort of look like a mess. He’s pulled his hair back into a bun, but a few loose strands have fallen wayward, and they look good, framing his face. His eyes still look about as tired as Niall feels, his cheeks are a bit ruddy, his lips are bit chapped, and there’s a slight indent of a line from Harry’s left temple down across his cheek from how he’d been sleeping with his arm hooked under one of the throw pillows – and Niall thinks he looks stunning. Thinks he wouldn’t be disappointed in the least, if Harry were the first thing he saw in every morning.

"You leaving?” Niall asks casually, despite the way his heart beats hard in his chest. He leans a shoulder against the wall and pushes both hands into the front pockets of his sweatpants. “It's early."

"I have to meet Louis in an hour and I was gonna swing by the cafe to get a smoothie," Harry explains swiftly.

"Can I come?"

Harry looks at him, both eyebrows raised in mock surprise. "You want a _smoothie_?" he teases – and _there’s_ the Harry he knows and…loves.

Niall rolls his eyes. "I just, I don't want you to go yet."

"I don't – I don't think it's good idea,” the brunette admits sheepishly. “In fact, I think we should call it – this, whatever it is, quits...for a while. That way we can both move on and you can fix your relationship with Ashton and-"

"Okay, yeah. That's probably best."

Harry nods. His Adam’s apple bobs hard as he swallows.

"But just for today, can I come with you?" Niall finds himself asking again, despite his own agreement. He doesn't say it, that he isn't ready to say goodbye yet – at least not in so many words, but he doesn't have to. He knows that Harry knows; knows that Harry feels the same way, if the way he hesitates – as though there’s an inward battle raging between what he wants to do and what he should do inside his head – has anything to do with it. "Just one more day, Haz," he whispers softly. “And then we go our separate ways…”

"Okay," Harry murmurs, after almost no convincing at all. He smiles softly, sadly, and tips his head towards the door.

X

If Louis is surprised to see Niall step out of the passenger side of Harry's car, then he hides it well. Perhaps _Louis_ should be an actor.

The others – the actors, and a couple of Louis' other friends are there (to act as ‘extras’, according to Harry) along with Eleanor, and after greeting Louis, Harry makes a beeline for the park bench they're all gathered around. 

Louis looks expectantly at Niall, one eyebrow raised as he stands in front of Niall, preventing him from going any further into the park than the curb. "You better be about to tell me that you've chosen Harry and that's why you're here with him – not because you're still carrying on behind Ashton's back."

Niall rolls his eyes. "I'm not carrying on behind Ashton's back."

"Does Ashton know you're here with Harry?"

"No, but he's not exactly talking to me, is he?"

Louis sighs, rolls his head back on his neck. "Niall-"

"Harry knows that I've chosen Ashton, and he gets it,” Niall explains. Not that he should even have to, considering Louis isn’t his boyfriend – _or_ his mother.

"Then why are you _here_ , Niall?"

Niall frowns, licks his lips and shrugs his shoulders helplessly. "Because I just want one more day with him, Tommo. One more day before we both go our separate ways, for who knows how long…"

"That's what you've decided, then? To go your separate ways?"

Niall nods. "We have to. I have to, if I want to make it work with Ashton."

"And that's what you want? You're sure?"

"I've loved Ashton for as long as I can remember, Louis." 

Louis nods. And neither one of them comment on the fact that Niall can't say that it's what he _wants_ – at least not without a shadow of a doubt. (Not without saying that he _doesn’t want_ to be with Harry.)

"I – I know we need to just walk away,” Niall says softly, logically. “And I know that we should just get it over with, but I...I can't just get it over with, Lou. I love him, despite _everything else_ , and it's like I'm breaking up with him, and I-"

"I get it," Louis murmurs, patting a hand on Niall’s shoulder. "I felt the same way when Eleanor and I broke up that one time a while back. You just want more time and you want it to last as long as possible before it's…impossible. I get it."

Niall smiles weakly. He remembers that one time Louis and Eleanor tried to break up; remembers how much of a wreck Louis was, how testy (more so than usual) he was. Louis was drunk for about one week straight, barely ate, couldn’t sleep… He was really, truly heartbroken for weeks before they got back together. So, yeah, Niall reckons that Louis understands exactly how he feels.

"I mean, it's not like you're going to get very much time with him though,” Louis points out a moment later. “I'm putting him to work in a minute.”

Niall shrugs, lets his gaze flicker to where Harry is, laughing with the others, arm slung across Eleanor’s shoulders. Harry’s smiling. He’s laughing. He looks relaxed and laid back, looks more content than he’s looked in, well, days, if Niall is being honest. And Niall likes to see Harry happy – likes to see Harry smile and laugh, and he hopes that, one day, Harry can be that way _all the time_ again.

“You’re gonna be okay with that?”

Niall smiles softly. "I don't mind watching him work."

X

The ride back to Niall’s (and Ashton’s) house is…tense. So much so, that if Niall didn’t know that it was physically impossible, he’d think he might choke on it. It’s quiet too, except for the sound of The Rolling Stones coming through the speakers.

They haven’t spoken since climbing back into the car. It’s like…there’s only so much either of them can say, but neither one of them wants to say it. Niall hates it. He hates how utterly awkward things have become, hates how tense things are between them now. He hates that being with Harry no longer feels like it used to, hates that in a matter of minutes he won’t even know when they’ll see each other again.

Harry pulls into the driveway far too soon. He puts the car in ‘park’, and then reaches for the dial on the console to turn the volume down until it’s but a low hum.

"Thanks...for letting me tag along with you today," Niall says, playing nervously with his fingers in his lap.

Harry leans back in his seat, rests his head back as he looks sideways at Niall. "Thank you for tagging along."

Niall rolls his eyes playfully; ignores the way his heart skips several beats.

Harry smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"For what's it's worth, Haz...I do love you,” Niall whispers, resting his head back too. He lets his head fall to the side to look back at him. “I really do, and I care about you so much, I just-"

"I know, it's okay," Harry whispers. He reaches out, then, and puts his hand over Niall’s right one. He intertwines their fingers, strokes his thumb over the side of Niall’s hand. "I'm not mad. I actually consider Ashton to be the luckiest man in the world because he'll get to be loved by _you_ every day. That’s something to admire, not hate."

Niall smiles, catches Harry’s pinky with his thumb. "You'll find someone, you know. And they'll love you better than me. They'll love you the way you _deserve_ to be loved."

Harry shrugs and shifts slightly, but he doesn’t look away. He looks at Niall intently, intensely, lovingly, longingly. And Niall can’t help but look back. His chest swells, and his eyes start to burn, and he feels a bit sick, but he can’t bring himself to look away. He doesn’t want to. He wants to sear Harry’s face into his mind’s eye; wants to always remember the way Harry’s eyes shine, wants to always remember his smile and his laugh.

“You should go,” Harry whispers, his voice pulling Niall out of his thoughts.

“Right,” Niall mutters. He’s reluctant as he pulls his hand out from underneath Harry’s, and he hates the way his heart hurts. His hand shakes as he undoes his seat belt. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

Harry smiles. "Yeah, you too."

Niall climbs out of the car. Waves. Taps his hand against the hood of the vehicle and then turns towards the house. He watches Harry drive away from the front porch, has half a mind to go after him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Think I'm gonna go away for a while,” Harry murmurs, running his finger up and down through the condensation on the bottle.
> 
> Nick raises a curious eyebrow. "Yeah? Oh, you should go stay with your mum and Robin for a bit – I think they miss you."
> 
> "No, I mean, I think I'm gonna travel. Or at least just – go somewhere...else."
> 
> "Oh. Yeah?"
> 
> Harry nods, takes a sip from the bottle. "Been thinking about it for a while,” he murmurs. He’s been thinking about it for a long while, if he’s honest. He hadn’t felt ready before, but now- “But now Niall's with Ashton, like, definitely – and Niall and I are taking some time apart, so... Maybe I can finally finish my screenplay."
> 
> "Should shag someone too," Nick suggests. "Get him out of your system."
> 
> Harry shrugs.
> 
> “Don’t tell me you don’t think you should…”
> 
> Harry takes another swig. “Don’t know if I could…”
> 
> Nick hums. "When d'you think you'd leave?"
> 
> "There's a flight tomorrow morning."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE!!!
> 
> This is a surprise update. I know some people are anxious to know how it ends, and for the ending to come sooner rather than later - and quite frankly I wasn't sure I could handle it being so far away either, so here I am.
> 
> Now, I want to take a second to say that I thank and appreciate each and every person that has liked this fic, or commented on this fic, or engaged/invested in it in some way, shape, or form. You're all pretty great! This was my baby for a longgggg time, so thank you so much for the support. 
> 
> Happy reading!

[Chapter Eleven]

Harry manages to keep the tears at bay for a whole 4.75 minutes after he drives away from Niall's house. A tear trickles down his cheek, he reaches one hand up to wipe it away, and then it's like they won't stop – and then the ball inside his chest bursts, the one that’s been there since Ashton found out, and he can't stop sobbing.

He has to pull over, has to let himself calm down, has to let himself see straight. He folds his arms over the steering wheel, buries his face inside the pocket he’s created within them, and cries. And cries. And sobs. And sobs. And hyperventilates a bit.

He feels sick. Feels like his heart is in his stomach but his stomach is up in his throat. Feels like his whole world is unravelling, feels like he’d rather let the ground swallow him whole than continue to feel so utterly heartbroken.

And he knows it’s his fault. He knows it is. He knows that this pain in his heart – the pain he feels throughout his entire body, at that, because _everything_ hurts – is his own doing. He knows it’s self-inflicted heartbreak, knows he could have walked away at any moment, knows he could have put a stop to, well, everything if he’d wanted to. But, selfishly, he hadn’t wanted to. Selfishly, he’d wanted to have as much as Niall as he could get.

He knew this would happen. He’d always known that Niall wasn’t going to choose him, and he’d been okay with that. Hell, he’s _still_ okay with that. It just hurts – more than anything has ever hurt before, and no amount of preparation was, he supposes, ever going to prevent it.

Once the sobs and tears and gasps dissipate, he makes a call.

Nick answers on the first ring.

“C-can I come over? I’m bringing alcohol,” Harry says.

Nick must hear the tears in his voice, must hear the way Harry’s voice shakes and quivers, because he doesn't even try to protest.

X

"Alright, I can't believe _I_ am about to say this, but I think you've quite had enough," Nick says, reaching for the large wine bottle in Harry's hand; he's long since given up glasses in favour of drinking straight from the bottle and, well, Harry’s just cracked open his third bottle.

Harry turns away just before Nick’s fingers can wrap around the base of the bottle. "I beg to differ," he drawls, taking another swig.

"Harold-"

"Nicholas," Harry echoes, gaze hard and glassy as he stares down his friend.

Nick sighs. "Harry-"

"Have you ever loved someone who didn't love you back?” Harry asks. He takes another swig. “Or, who loved you back, but not enough to _choose_ you? Has that ever happened to you?"

Nick glances at Michael, his boyfriend of four years who’s sitting on the couch, nursing a beer bottle between his legs – and then he looks back at Harry and shakes his head. 

"Of course you haven't, because you found your fucking soulmate on the first try!"

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say the _first_ try, but-"

"It was on the first _real_ try though, right?"

Nick shrugs. "Yeah, I guess it was."

"Niall would have- Or, I guess he was my first real try," Harry slurs. His eyes are burning, his heart hurts, and he feels like he’s going to be sick – but he takes another sip from the bottle anyway. He likes the fuzzy feeling in his limbs; wants to feel it in his heart too.

Nick seems to give up on taking the bottle away from Harry and, instead, sits beside Michael on the sofa. He reaches for the beer bottle in front of him on the coffee table, and drinks from it. "You don't actually believe in _soulmates_ , do you?"

Harry shrugs. "Sometimes. In some ways…"

"Sometimes _what_?"

Harry takes yet another swig before he slumps down onto a love seat in the corner of the living room, only a few feet away from the sofa. "Sometimes there are people that are meant to be together. Sometimes there are people who are meant to just…meet each other. Sometimes there are people who are meant to be together, and it's just not the right time. And sometimes people are soulmates, but they're platonic soulmates, you know? Like, true _best friends_..."

Nick, and Michael, remain silent, like they’re waiting for him to continue.

"I guess I just think everything happens for a reason," Harry mutters, running a finger around the neck of the bottle.

Nick cocks an eyebrow. "So, in other words, Niall chose Ashton for a reason... _Why_?"

Harry shrugs. "Dunno yet, do I? And- Do you wanna know the worst part?”

“What’s that?”

Harry takes a swig. “I want to _hate_ Niall, but I can't even bring myself to be mad at him – and the only person I am mad at is myself."

X

Michael goes to bed early. He has to work in the morning, so he pats Harry on the back and kisses the top of Nick’s head before he disappears.

Nick stays up, though; stays sprawled across the couch, feet tangled with Harry’s on top of the coffee table. Harry’s on his fourth bottle, sipping it slowly now because _everything_ is starting to feel fuzzy – including the thoughts in his head. Nick is now drinking water.

"Think I'm gonna go away for a while,” Harry murmurs, running his finger up and down through the condensation on the bottle.

Nick raises a curious eyebrow. "Yeah? Oh, you should go stay with your mum and Robin for a bit – I think they miss you."

"No, I mean, I think I'm gonna travel. Or at least just – go somewhere...else."

"Oh. Yeah?"

Harry nods, takes a sip from the bottle. "Been thinking about it for a while,” he murmurs. He’s been thinking about it for a _long_ while, if he’s honest. He hadn’t felt ready before, but now- “But now Niall's with Ashton, like, definitely – and Niall and I are taking some time apart, so... Maybe I can finally finish my screenplay."

"Should shag someone too," Nick suggests. "Get him out of your system."

Harry shrugs.

“Don’t tell me you don’t think you should…”

Harry takes another swig. “Don’t know if I _could_ …”

Nick hums. "When d'you think you'd leave?"

"There's a flight tomorrow morning."

"That quickly, huh?"

Harry sighs, lets his head fall to the side to look at his friend properly. "I have to, Nick. I'll lose my mind, otherwise."

"Would you like a ride?"

"You mind?"

Nick snorts, rolls his eyes, and ruffles Harry’s unruly hair with his free hand. And Harry, sweet, drunk Harry, lets himself fall sideways and puts his head in Nick’s lap, which makes Nick chuckle softly. "Nah, kid,” he murmurs, a moment later. “You know I've got your back."

X

Niall’s groggy when he turns over, rubbing at his eyes as Ashton crawls into the bed beside him. He blinks in confusion, and he feels a bit taken aback as he pushes himself up onto his elbows. "Hey," he murmurs, watching with tired eyes as his boyfriend slips beneath the sheet.

"Hey," Ashton whispers back.

Niall wants to reach out, wants to touch him, but he holds himself back. "You okay?"

Ashton lays back, runs one hand down Niall’s bicep. "Go back to sleep, we'll talk after."

"Missed you."

"I missed you too,” Ashton murmurs, “but go back to sleep."

Niall obliges, lets himself lie back down, smiles when Ashton molds himself to Niall’s back with an arm thrown over Niall’s waist. Sleep finds him quickly after that because he can't help it. 

X

Ashton’s rinsing the dishes and placing them on the counter to transfer them into the dish washer when Niall walks into the kitchen. It’s been about six hours since Ashton crawled into bed with him this morning, and it’s already going on noon. Niall isn’t entirely sure where they stand, but Ashton’s coming home and getting straight into bed with him is surely a good sign. Right? It probably means that Ashton wants to work on things; at the very least it means that Ashton missed him.

He’s hesitant, at first, as he enters the room, but Ashton’s small smile over his shoulder is inviting nonetheless. He walks up behind Ashton, presses his lips against the tip of Ashton’s shoulder and rests his hands on Ashton’s hips.

"How's Luke?" he asks softly, casually. He figures it’s best to start off small.

Ashton shrugs as he places the last dish amongst the pile of others, before turning around to face Niall. "He's...Luke,” he replies. “How's Harry?"

Niall blinks slowly, breath caught in his throat.

"I know you had to have seen him this weekend, Ni. I know you didn't just leave it at him leaving the other night."

And, well, of course Ashton would have figured that much out. He’s smart, and he knows how both Niall and Harry feel… Of course he would have suspected it, at the very least. "He came to see me, wanted to check in,” Niall admits. “He wanted to check in on you too, actually; wanted to apologize."

Ashton nods, tight-lipped. 

"He knows where I stand,” Niall says, then, to clear the air. “He knows that I want to make it work with _you_ and he's okay with that."

Ashton stares at him, like he’s waiting for him to continue.

"But...you should know, that I did ask him to stay the night. Nothing happened – all we did was sleep on the couch, but I just...I hadn't fully been ready to say goodbye.

"So he stayed, and I went with him to hang out with him and Louis while they shot some scenes the next day, and...it's over now. We're not going to see each other anymore, at all. We're – we're done." Acknowledging it, and saying it out loud is a like a punch to the gut; it’s the wind gets knocked out of him.

"Is that what you want?" Ashton asks softly, folding his arms over his chest as he leans back against the edge of the counter.

"It's what I need,” Niall says. “It's what we all need, in order for any of us to move past this."

Ashton continues to just…stare at him.

Niall steps forward, cards his left hand through Ashton’s hair. "I want to move past this, Ash,” he whispers, leaning forward still. He likes that Ashton lets him press their foreheads together. “I want that future we've been talking about. And I want things to go back to the way they were."

"You mean, back to the way they were _before_ you fell in love with another guy."

Niall sighs, as he pulls back. "Ash-"

"Why _me_ , Niall?” Ashton asks, brows furrowed in genuine confusion. “Why choose me, when you could just as easily choose _him_?"

"Because I still love you,” Niall says firmly. He knows he shouldn’t feel offended by Ashton’s question, but…he is. “Because I've _always_ loved you, and I don't want to throw that away."

"Luke kissed me."

Niall blinks, taken aback. His breath catches in his throat and his stomach churns and he’s pretty sure his heart stutters out of shock. "W-what?"

Ashton licks his lips, slips out from between the counter and where Niall is standing in front of him to walk around to the other side of the island. "Last night, he kissed me,” he says, swallows hard. “We were watching a movie, and the after the movie we sat on the couch talking about it and he just...kissed me."

"Did you...did you kiss him back?"

Ashton nods. 

And Niall wants to yell. Wants scream and cuss and throw the dishes piled up on the counter onto the floor and punch Luke in the face – but he doesn’t because that would make him a hypocrite. (Except that it was nothing more than one kiss between Ashton and Luke – whereas it was, admittedly, much more between himself and Harry. So, maybe that would make Niall a little bit more than _just_ a hypocrite.)

"I kind of liked it, Niall," Ashton admits, his voice but a whisper.

Niall swallows around the lump in his throat as he shoves his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. "W-why are you telling me this?"

"Because I want to be honest with you. And if we _are_ going to try and move past this, then we need to start being honest with each other."

"Do you have feelings for him?"

Ashton shrugs, extending his arms and pursing his lips before letting his arms fall back down to his sides. "I don't – I don't know, Niall,” he admits. “I don’t know why I kissed him back, I don't know if that means I have feelings for him- I don't know much of anything anymore because you've ruined everything."

Niall walks around the corner of the island, reaches out for him, cups his face and shushes him softly. He wipes a fallen tear off of Ashton’s cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I'm sorry, Ash. I know it's my fault, all of it, and I'm so sorry."

Ashton bows his head, rests his forehead against Niall's.

"I love you," Niall whispers. "And I want to make this work. And – I hope you still want that too."

"I do – I want that,” Ashton murmurs. “Of course I do.”

"Yeah?"

"I just...I don't know if we can, Niall."

And just like that, the hope that had expanded in his chest deflates again. "W-why not?"

"Because whether you love me still, or not, you...love someone else too- You _fell in love_ with someone else. How do you fall in love with someone else? And how do you move past that?"

As if on cue, whilst Niall gapes like a fish, and at the worst possible time, Ashton's phone rings. The sound startles them both, and Niall lets his hands fall down to his sides. (He has half a mind to ask if it’s Luke as Ashton fishes the mobile out of his back pocket, but he doesn’t.)

"It's my mum,” Ashton sighs. “I have to-"

"Yeah, take it," Niall murmurs. He wonders, briefly, if she knows about what has happened between them... And he wonders, mostly, that if she does, what she thinks about him now.

Ashton smiles sheepishly, before walking out of the room. Niall’s only remaining comfort is that Ashton squeezes his shoulder on the way by. 

X

Niall straightens himself out on the couch, sits up properly and takes his feet off the coffee table to place them on the ground as Ashton walks into the room.

"Sorry, family drama," Ashton explains with a roll of his eyes.

"Everyone okay?"

"Yeah, it's just, you know...drama."

Niall hums, looks down as he twirls his phone between his hands and taps it against his thigh. 

"You miss him already."

His gaze snaps upwards, collides with Ashton. Ashton, who doesn’t look mad…only looks sad and knowing as he sits on the sofa beside him. "W-what?"

Ashton smiles weakly. "Harry – you miss him."

Niall blinks. "I-"

"You get this look on your face when you're thinking about him,” Ashton explains, his voice soft. “And you twirl your phone around when you're waiting for him to text you back, like you can't keep still."

Niall doesn't know what to say. He hasn’t texted Harry, not today – but he can’t deny that he misses Harry. He can’t deny that Ashton is right about the thing he does when he’s thinking about Harry either.

Ashton shakes his head in what looks like disbelief as he leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees. He looks at Niall, bites his lip in the way that he does when he’s nervous or…uncertain. "What are we doing, Niall? What are _you_ doing?"

Niall wants to say something, anything – but instead he stays silent. Because, quite frankly, he's not entirely _sure_ what he’s doing.

"You want to be with me because you've always been with me. Maybe it's because I'm safe, or because you feel bad-"

"Ash-"

"But you want to be with Harry because you're _in love_ with him," Ashton says.

"I don't – Ashton, I don't love you any less than I did before," Niall replies, because it’s the only thing he can think of to say. It’s the only thing he can say with absolute certainty.

"You do, though, Ni,” Ashton murmurs, pushes himself to his feet. “And I'm- Hang on, I'm not saying you don't _love_ me, babe. I'm just- I'm just saying you've…outgrown me, or something."

Niall frowns, feels like he's about to cry. There’s a ball in his chest and rocks in his stomach, and it honest to goodness feels like he’s drowning even though he’s very clearly not. "Ash..."

"It's okay, Ni."

"It's not,” Niall whimpers. His eyes are burning, and his cheeks are wet when he rubs the heels of his hands to them. “It's not okay, I-"

Ashton cups Niall's face, and only then is Niall aware that Ashton’s sitting in front him, arse perched on the coffee table. "It's okay to be _in love_. Even if it isn't with me."

Niall chokes on a sob, lets his head fall forward until his forehead knocks gently against Ashton’s. "I'm so sorry,” I'm – I never meant for this to happen. I didn't even know that this _could_ happen."

The gentle stroke of Ashton’s thumbs over his cheekbones, wiping away Niall’s tears, is the only thing that manages to keep Niall from falling apart completely. It’s the only thing that keeps him grounded, which shouldn’t surprise him because Ashton has _always_ been the one person who’s kept him grounded – and yet he’s completely surprised, because it shouldn’t be like this. Ashton shouldn’t be the one comforting Niall in this situation, but here’s Ashton: holding Niall together with just the pads of his thumbs.

Here’s Ashton, telling Niall what Niall, himself, was too afraid to acknowledge. And Ashton knows Niall more than Niall knows himself, more than anyone else, so-

"I didn't want this to fail,” Niall murmurs, once the sobs have subsided.

"We were good,” Ashton whispers. “We were happy. I wouldn't call that a _failure_."

"I shouldn't have let this happen."

Ashton smiles sadly, shrugs his shoulders weakly. "There's this saying, and it goes like this: _'You can't help who you fall in love with.'_ I reckon that means you can't help _when_ , either."

Niall cracks a weak smile. He sniffs back unshed tears. It hurts, hurting someone you love; especially when it hurts yourself too.

"I know you love me, and I know you wanted to try for me – and it's because _I_ love _you_ that I think you need to try for _Harry_."

Niall’s brow furrows in utter confusion as he pulls back. He catches one of Ashton’s hands as they fall away from his face. "Why? You should hate him."

"I did hate him. For about a day, and then I realized that he and I are a lot alike – that, like me, all he did was fall in love with you."

"He's a good guy, Ash. He's a really good guy, and I think you'd actually like him if it weren't for the circumstances."

Ashton snorts. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves, yeah?"

Niall laughs softly, because, well...yeah, he definitely shouldn’t get ahead of himself.

"I can forgive you for falling in love and wanting to be with him, Niall. I can forgive you for being happier with someone else. But I could never forgive you for staying with me out of some sort of obligation – which, before you argue, is what it would be in comparison," Ashton tells him truthfully. And try as he might, Niall can’t see an ounce of a lie hiding in Ashton’s eyes. And Niall shouldn’t be surprised by that either, because Ashton has never lied to him.

Niall sighs, groans. "How are you so... _perfect_ , Ash? Why couldn't it just be _you_?"

Ashton shrugs, smiling sadly. "I'm currently trying to figure out why I'm not more selfish."

"Because you're a good guy too," Niall whispers, rubbing his thumb over the top of Ashton’s hand. “You’re one of the best, actually. And any guy in the world would be lucky to have you. Just… _know_ that, alright?” He leans forward, then, and presses his lips against Ashton’s. It’s nothing more than a simple, soft touch of lips – but it’s a comfort he needs. And given Ashton’s sigh against his lips when he pulls away, it’s a comfort Ashton needs as well.

"Go,” Ashton whispers. “Go find him, tell him you choose him; that your heart wants him no matter what your brain thinks it wants. We'll figure everything else out after."

And Niall could go. Niall could get up, and he could say goodbye to Ashton – could say goodbye to the last eight years of his life, and he could walk out the front door of his _and Ashton’s_ house and never look back. Instead, though, he intertwines their fingers, and looks at Ashton properly. “Could we just…stay here for a little while? I just want to stay with you a little while longer.”

Ashton nods quickly before climbing on the couch next to Niall. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, of course.”

X

Harry's phone keeps going straight to voicemail every time Niall calls. He calls six times on the drive over, but to avail. The butterflies fluttering around inside his stomach start to make him feel sick the closer he gets.

When nobody answers the door, Niall let's himself using the spare key Harry hides in the mailbox door. Harry’s car is here, but Jeff’s is gone. He calls out for Harry, checks the kitchen and the living room before making his way upstairs to Harry's bedroom. 

Harry's not there. He's not anywhere. And neither, Niall finds out as he turns to walk out of the room, is half of Harry's closet – or the black trunk Niall had seen once, propped under the window to act as a table. 

A bubble of panic and sorrow and confusion forms in his chest, as a lump the size of a golf ball grows in his throat. He fumbles for his phone, nearly drops it in his struggle, and dials the first – and only – phone number he can think of. 

"Horan!” Nick says, upon answering his phone. “If you're calling in sick for tomorrow because you're still nursing a hangover then you can-"

"Where's Harry?" Niall demands. He doesn’t have time for Nick’s antics; he needs to find Harry.

Nick is silent. So silent, that if Niall didn’t know any better, he’d think that Nick hung up on him just to avoid talking to him.

"Nicholas Grimshaw-"

"Come to my flat," is all Nick says – and, somehow, it’s all Niall needs to hear before hanging up, his stomach in his throat.

X

"A note?" Niall asks bluntly, staring down the envelope in his hands. It's even got Niall's name, printed in all caps the way Harry writes. It feels heavier than it should in his hand. "He left me a _note_."

Nick nods, runs a hand through his hair.

Niall’s eyebrows furrow together in confusion. "When did he even decide to leave? Did he just- Drop me off, then decide he was going to flee the country? And then to leave me a note like – like I don't even _matter_?"

"He left you the note _because_ you matter to him, Niall."

"When did he decide he was going to leave, then?" Niall demands, dropping the envelope on the counter. He doesn’t even want to touch it, let alone read it.

Nick shrugs. "He's been thinking about it for a while now, since- I guess since you signed for the house with Ashton. He thought he could use a bit of a getaway."

"Right," Niall mutters bitterly.

"He called me after he dropped you off yesterday, asked if he could come over,” Nick starts to explain. “He got drunk, talked about you a lot – and then he decided that he was going to get a plane ticket and go away for a while."

"Where'd he go?"

Nick shakes his head, though he has the decency to at least look disappointed. "I can't tell you."

Niall frowns. "Nick, please, I-"

"I legitimately cannot tell you, Nialler. He didn't tell me where he was going, just that he'd check in once a day."

Niall opens his mouth to say something – something about how stupid and irresponsible and dangerous that is, but nothing comes out. He swallows hard around the lump in his throat, folds his arms over his chest. "He didn't want me to follow him, did he?"

Nick shakes his head again. "Only because I think he _needs_ this, Niall. He needs to be alone for a while, needs to figure himself out."

"Did he say when he's coming back?"

"No, he's not sure."

It’s like the floor has fallen out from under him, like he’s hanging onto the edge of a gaping hole by the tips of his fingers. Part of him wants to let go. He’s heartbroken and he’s scared and he feels more alone now than he’s ever felt before. Harry’s gone, and Ashton is gone (although not literally), and Niall is…alone.

It’s over with Ashton, whether Harry is around or not. There’s no going back now, not after everything that’s happened – and certainly not after he’s literally _left_ Ashton for Harry. He wouldn’t do that anyway. It’s no longer a question of who Niall wants to be with – because the answer is Harry; has been for ages now, he was just too stubborn to acknowledge it. At this point, it seems to be a matter of _when_ …

"He loves you, you know,” Nick murmurs. He pops the cap off of two beer bottles and then hands one bottle to Niall. “A lot. Like, more than he's ever loved anyone since I’ve known him."

Niall takes a long drink, downs half of the bottle in one-go. 

"Read the letter, yeah?"

"I don't know if I can," Niall admits. He’s afraid. He’s scared to know what’s in it; he’s not sure if he wants to know what’s been going through Harry’s head. What if Harry doesn’t know what he wants anymore? What if Harry knows what he wants – and it just isn’t him? What he doesn’t plan on even coming back at all?

"Just- Try, then,” Nick insists softly. “He gave this to me specifically, just in case you changed your mind – or came to your senses, in my opinion, not that Ashton isn’t a great bloke because he is, he’s just-“ He cuts himself off, and gives his head a shake before he starts over. “He gave it to me in the case that you came looking for him. He _wants_ you to read it."

Niall nods, but he doesn’t make any promises.

X

X

X

_Niall,_

This is really cliché of me. Like, sooooo cliché. A goodbye in the form of a love letter. Or vice versa. Except it's not really a goodbye, it's more of a... See you later. Which is cliché. Again. 

Anyway, if you're reading this then I'll assume that you've come looking for me. Perhaps you changed your mind? (Personally, I hope that if you have come looking for me, that that's the reason why.) And I wish that I could tell you that I wish I could be there with you – and in a way, I do, because I'm so in love with you, Ni – but I need this. I need some time to myself.

You've consumed me, Niall Horan from Mullingar. All of me. Every part of me belongs to you, and it's like I've forgotten who I am. Or, who I used to be. Maybe who I want to be. You've consumed me, and in order for me to move forward – for us to move forward, should that be the reason that you came to look for me – I need to just...BE for a little while.

So I've bought a plane ticket and I've packed a suitcase, and I've brought my script with me. My hope is that while I'm gone I'll find the inspiration and the means to finish it. I also hope that, if you are reading this, it means we could have a future together. Perhaps fate will work in our favour someday. Whatever will be, will be.

I love you, Niall Horan. Whatever you do between now and the next time I see you, never forget that. God I fucking love you.

Yours, 

Harry

X

Niall feels...oddly okay. At peace, even.

He doesn't feel like his heart is breaking, where he did before. He doesn't feel like everything is falling apart, where it did before. In fact, it sort of feels like everything is falling into place, just...slowly.

Perhaps they both need this, not just Harry, he thinks. Perhaps they'll be better because of it, eventually.

Harry isn't saying goodbye. He's not even leaving _Niall_. He's just...waiting to see how _fate_ works out, the believer that he is.

The butterflies in his stomach make Niall wonder if, perhaps, Harry might be in the midst of making Niall a believer too.


	12. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, 'fate' is a funny thing when you think about it,” Gemma hums, pausing to take a sip from her drink. “You're here, obviously, and Harry's literally just down the street looking for a new book to read – and maybe you'll run into each other, but maybe you won't."
> 
> "Yeah," Niall breathes. His heart starts beating wildly in his chest, and he’s pretty sure he might have forgotten how to breathe.
> 
> "Anyway, I have to get going,” she says, pushing herself back to her feet. Niall stands too, and hugs her again. “I'll see you around, yeah?"
> 
> Niall nods, swallows hard around the lump in his throat. "Yeah, definitely."
> 
> Gemma leaves, then, with one wave over her shoulder as the door to the coffee shop closes behind her.
> 
> And then Niall does too, coffee in hand, rushing down the street to the bookshop- And that's where he sees Harry; hair long and curly, shoulders broad beneath a flowery top, legs long, wearing black skinny jeans and brown boots. He wants to go through the door, and he could. He could pretend to be looking for a book too, come around the corner slowly and bump right into him; he could pretend like he didn't know Harry had been there, act like fate really is working out for them…

[Epilogue]

"Have _you_ seen my blue jumper?"

Niall doesn’t even have to look up to know that Nick is half dressed upon barrelling into the kitchen. He does look up though, though, and it’s to see that Nick is, in fact, only half dressed, with his trousers hanging off his hips, undone, and a hand hair in his messy hair. Niall rolls his eyes upon seeing Nick’s exasperated expression, before turning his attention back to the pan in front of his as he cracks two eggs into the melted butter. "It's hanging over the chair in the living room."

"Yes!" Nick thanks him with a pat on the shoulder, before disappearing into the living room. He reappears less than a minute later, wearing his jumper and smoothing down his hair. "I knew it was a good idea to have you crash here. Michael's useless."

Niall snorts. He thinks about contradicting him by using the fact that Michael is the one that actually sleeps with him, but decides against it; he’d rather not listen to Nick gloat about his sex life, especially considering he’d gotten enough of a listen this morning. "Going somewhere?” he asks instead. It’s a Sunday, and neither one of them work on Sundays.

"Picking up Harry at the airport – and I'm running late. Go figure."

Niall's ears perk up, and he raises an eyebrow. "Harry's back today?"

Nick blinks. "Yeah, he didn't tell you?"

The blond shakes his head. "He sent me the ending to his screenplay a few days ago so I knew it'd be soon, but no- He didn't tell me," he murmurs. He’s not sure whether or not he should be…hurt by that.

"I mean, I'm sure he's going to, obviously."

Niall shrugs, before flipping both eggs. "’s not like he _has_ to."

And, well, as true as that is – that Harry isn’t really obligated to tell him anything – it still…stings. It stings knowing that Harry is coming back, and that he hadn’t even bothered to tell him. He thinks he knows why, thinks it probably has to do with Harry’s whole idea of time and fate, and so he wishes that it didn’t bother him – he wishes it didn’t sting, but it’s a thing that can’t be helped.

"It's a shame I have to leave,” Nick comments as he shoves his feet into an old, holey pair of black Converse. “Breakfast smells delicious."

"Serves you right," Michael mutters as he comes into the kitchen, fully clothed in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. "He is right though, Horan. Smells great."

"You want some?" Niall asks, motioning to the small pile of cooked sausages he has gathered on a plate next to the stove. “I made coffee too.

Michael grins as he reaches out to grab a link off the place. "Absolutely. You’re brilliant."

"Oi, hang on! Why does it 'serve me right'?" Nick demands.

"Don't you have to get to airport?" Niall asks.

"Shit – fuck!" Nick curses. He snags his jacket off of the hook closest to the front door and then he's gone, his previous worry forgotten.

Niall gets two plates out of the cupboard next to the fridge, and then plops an egg onto each one whilst Michael goes for his own sausage. "So, why _does_ it 'serve him right'?"

Michael shrugs. "It doesn't. He was just being his prickly self earlier and he's always more fun to mess with when he's already like that."

Niall snorts, mostly because he can relate.

"So your boy's back in England today, yeah? How do you feel about that?"

Niall shrugs, despite his rapidly beating heart, as he climbs into one of stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. "Don't even know if he's _my_ boy, if I'm honest."

"Guess we're bound to find out."

"Yeah," Niall breathes. "Guess so."

It’s been five months since Niall has seen him. Five months since he’s spoken to Harry in person. And Niall wants to see him. Wants so badly to have followed Nick to the airport, to welcome Harry back, to ask him about his trip. Wants to ask him out on a _proper_ date, to _kiss_ him, to _be_ with him.

But he doesn't. He doesn't follow Nick because, well, maybe Harry is right – maybe Harry has always been right. Maybe time will tell whatever fate has in store. 

X

“Harold!”

The bloke in question grins upon seeing the source of the voice. “Grim!” he shouts back, pulling his suitcase behind him as he makes his way towards where Nick is standing, a Starbucks cup in each hand.

Nicks hugs him the minute he’s able to, smacks a kiss against his temple. "That's for being gone so long."

Harry rolls his eyes, despite the smile stretched across his lips, as he pulls back. 

Nick then smacks his hand against the back of Harry’s neck. 

"Ow-” Harry yelps, lifting his arms up in anticipation of another smack. He’s grateful when it doesn’t come. “What the fuck was that for?!"

"That,” Nick starts, handing Harry one of the Starbucks cups, “was for not telling Niall that you were coming back today. Imagine his surprise when I told him where I was going this morning."

Harry’s brow furrows in confusion. "Why would you have to tell him where you're going? Did you work today?”

"Uh, no- He's been crashing with Michael and me."

"So he really did break it off with Ashton."

Nick nods as they both fall into step with each other towards the main exit. "He came to see you the afternoon after you left."

And, well, Harry had had his suspicions. They’d never talked about it, he and Niall, in the few emails they’d sent to each other – but there were hints. Harry had just refused to let himself get his hopes up just in case he was wrong so that when he did, eventually, come back, it wouldn’t have been a total let down.

"Why didn't you tell him you were coming home today?"

"Because I don't want to chase him,” Harry says. He takes a small sip from his cup; green tea, just the way he likes it. “If it happens again, it happens again."

Nick groans. "Is this one of your 'leaving it up to fate' things?"

"Maybe,” Harry smirks. “Niall gets it. He'll understand."

X

Niall smiles when he sees Ashton, rolls his eyes when Ashton points to the mug on the table in front of Niall's empty chair. 

They’ve been meeting up once a week at _Sarah’s Kitchen_ , and every time Ashton gets there before him, he buys Niall a coffee. Niall beat him two weeks ago, and he managed to just hand the cashier his change when Ashton had come through the door. He’s pretty sure they have an unofficial competition going now, and Niall’s losing.

"You have to stop doing that, Ash."

"Shut up,” Ashton laughs. “And sit down."

Niall does as he's told; pulls the chair out and all but falls into it. 

"How’ve you been?"

"Been great, actually,” Niall replies. He pauses to take a sip of his coffee, hums in satisfaction, and then leans back in his chair. “Busy, but great."

"You've got that charity event coming up next weekend, yeah?"

Niall grins. "Yeah, Rosey and I are buzzing about it. It's gonna be good – I hope."

This time, the event is a partnership between (just) Niall, and pro-golfer, Justin Rose. They’ve called it Horan Rose, and they’re putting it on to raise funds (as well as awareness) for Cancer Research UK Kids and Teens. BBC Radio doesn’t have anything to do with the charity itself, this time, but they’ve been major supporters.

Ashton smiles. "It's gonna be great, Ni."

Niall smiles back. "Thanks. What about you?"

"Good,” Ashton chirps. “Busy, as usual, but things are really good. Oh, hey, how's Harry?”

Niall shrugs, drops his gaze to stare at the mug in front of him. "Haven't seen him."

"What? Even _I've_ seen him."

"Oh yeah?" Niall asks, ears perked up in interest, brow furrowed in confusion.

Ashton nods. "Ran into him in the cafe; this one, actually. Last week."

Niall feels an urge to look around, but doesn't. He holds his composure. It’s not as weird now, talking about their love lives (or, well, the lack of Niall’s current one), and Ashton is well over the whole… _Niall-falling-in-love-with-Harry Fiasco_ , but it’s still, well, weird. And the last thing Niall wants to do is look like a lovesick fool in front of his ex-boyfriend.

"He's not here,” Ashton smirks. Because Ashton still knows him, apparently.

Niall can feel the blush working its way up neck and across his cheeks, can feel the heat in his ears.

"Are things not- Why have you not seen him yet?"

"It's...complicated."

Ashton raises a curious eyebrow. 

Niall sighs. "It's a ‘fate’ thing. A _Harry_ thing, more like."

"Right."

"Anyway, how are you and Luke?” Niall asks, changing the subject quickly. In part because, well, he’s genuinely curious, but mostly because he doesn’t want to try to explain Harry’s idea of _‘Whatever will be, will be.’_ “Things good?"

Ashton's entire face lights up, then, and Niall smiles back; he misses seeing Ashton look happy. "We're great. Really great."

After their break-up, they’d decided to put the house up for sale. Niall had taken most of his stuff to Nick’s place, and Ashton had moved in with Luke; everything they shared, was split between them and placed in a storage container until the time comes for either of them to be able to use it.

It was hard. Packing his entire life up, _leaving_ Ashton, moving out, moving on – it was definitely, 100 per cent, the hardest thing that Niall has ever had to do. But it’s been worth it, since then. In fact, watching Ashton move on with his own life, one where Luke makes him the happiest person on earth, has definitely, 100 per cent, been the easiest part of the whole process.

"I'm really happy for you, Ash,” Niall murmurs softly. “You deserve to be happy."

"You do too, y'know."

Niall shrugs.

"You _do_ ,” Ashton insists. He leans forward in his chair, folds his arms across the table between them. “What happened between us, it was out of your control; our control, even. I mean, perhaps we could have propositioned Harry to a poly relationship – but I don't think I could have done that, and I'm pretty sure the only _threesomes_ Harry likes are the sexual kind."

Niall rolls his eyes, despite the smile tugging at his lips. Ashton is no doubt right about that that.

Ashton holds one hand out, palm facing upwards – and Niall takes it, slips his own hand over top. "You do deserve to be happy, Nialler. Everything will work out for you. I know it will."

And, well, if Ashton can be sure of something like that after everything Niall has put him through over the last year and a half, then surely he must be onto something.

X

"Niall, hey!" Eleanor greets cheerfully as she opens the door.

"Hey, El." He kisses her cheek before slipping past her into the house. “Was just in the neighbourhood, thought I’d swing by. It’s been a bit of a while, hasn’t it?”

Eleanor smiles as she closes the door behind him. “It has. And you just missed Harry, actually."

Niall blinks, and it’s like his heart jumps into his throat. "He was here? Why?"

Eleanor shrugs. "Movie stuff."

And, oh…yeah. That’s something that Harry would have to do, now that Louis has finally finished filming. (If only he’d thought to swing by earlier…)

"Louis and Zayn are in the living room,” she says. “I'm going for a run."

"Thanks, have fun."

"Thanks, love." She squeezes his arm once before heading out the door.

Zayn and Louis are exactly where Eleanor said they’d be, both of them sitting side-by-side on the sofa, hunched over Louis’ laptop on the coffee table, when Niall walks into the living room. Louis sees him first.

"Hey- Oh, NIALLER, you just missed Harry-"

Niall nods as he comes around the table, props himself against the arm of the couch. "Yeah, El told me. He came by to check out the final edits?"

"Not _final_ final," Zayn says, correcting him. "But yeah."

"We have a bit more editing to do,” Louis explains. “Should be done in a couple days. Have you still not seen Harry?"

Niall shakes his head.

"Have you at least spoken?"

"Not really."

"Niall, what-"

"It's complicated," Niall shrugs.

Louis looks at Niall incredulously, throws himself against the back of the sofa to get a proper look. "HOW? _Why_ the fuck not?"

Zayn sighs. "Lou-"

"You're in love with him, aren't you?"

Niall blinks, taken aback. "Yes, but-"

"And you want to be with him?” Louis presses. “I mean, I'd hope so considering you left Ashton for him and-"

"Yes, Tommo, but-"

"Then what the fuck is your deal? Call him, ask him out in a date, tell him you're ready to bang – fucking marry him, if you want to, Niall, but-"

"I said it's _complicated_ , Louis, for fuck's sake!" Niall shouts, pushing himself away from the couch. He shoves both hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and hovers on the other side of the coffee table. The more people who ask him about it, the more frustrating it gets.

Louis blinks. Zayn stares between the two of them.

"Complicated how?” Louis asks gently. “I'm just- I'm genuinely curious, don’t chew me out."

Niall sighs. "Harry sent me the finished ending of the film when he was still in Rome. Said he wanted me to be the first one to read it-"

"Because it's based on the two of you, yeah?" Zayn asks.

Louis gaps at him, taken aback. 

"What? I pay attention. I'm just quiet about it."

"Right, so- I did,” Niall continues. “And the way it ends, with James and Edward finding each other again, it's a fate thing, you know?"

And, well, that’s exactly how Harry’s script ends. James and Amy have a falling out because James can’t stop thinking about Edward, and because James and Edward are literal _soulmates_ , it’s inevitable that they come back together even though they never actively seek one another out.

"So, what, he wants to see if you can find your way back to each other?" Louis asks, brows furrowed in a mixture of what looks like curiosity and confusion.

Niall nods. "And if we do, then – ‘it's meant to be', or whatever." _Whatever will be, will be._ It feels ridiculous, talking about _fate_ as though he and Harry are actually soulmates, and he knows that Louis and Zayn aren’t really going to get it, that they probably think Harry’s story has just gone to his head – but Niall gets it. He understands Harry’s desire to let things happen organically, should they happen at all. He understands Harry’s longing to feel like he _belongs_ with someone, like it’s beyond either of their control. He understands why Harry doesn’t want to push it.

Louis snickers fondly, pulling Niall out of his thoughts. "What a sap. He probably really does believe in soulmates too."

"I think it's sweet," Zayn says, with a shrug of his shoulders. He hadn’t been around very much, a while back, having seemingly dropped off the face of the earth to concentrate on his art after his rather devastating breakup with Perrie, but it’s no surprise that he knows all about _Niall and Harry_. Louis has a big fucking mouth. "Especially if you consider the fact that _before_ Niall he was a bit of a slag."

"Alright, that's enough about my love life,” Niall scoffs, rolling his eyes. “And Harry's. How's the film looking?"

"Really good, actually," Louis says. He scoots his arse over to make room for Niall to sit down on the cushion this time, rather than on the arm of the sofa. "And not just because I'm really good with a camera, either. Harry could actually make a name for himself as a writer. He's brilliant."

Niall finds himself hiding a rather proud smile behind his hand as he leans forward to get a better look at the image on Louis’ screen.

It’s a still of James and Edward holding hands, their backs turned as they walk away from the camera. It’s so fucking cliché, and yet, Niall kind of really loves it.

X

Niall runs into Gemma at _Starbucks_ , which is a bit weird and makes Niall feel a bit…on edge…because, well, he hasn’t been to _Starbucks_ in ages – not since discovering an obsession with _Sarah’s Kitchen_ – and, well, it’s just a bit weird running into Gemma here, of all places in London.

"Niall, hey!"

"Gemma!” Niall greets back warmly. He pulls her in for a hug, while they both wait at the bar for their drinks. “Hey, it's been a while."

Gemma smiles – and Niall still can’t get over how much she looks like Harry. "Yeah, a little bit. How've you been?"

"Good," Niall replies with a slight nod of his head. "Good. You?"

"I'm really well, actually."

"Yeah? How's Derek?"

She shrugs, and then thanks the barista who hands her a latte with her name on it. "We broke up a couple weeks ago, so I really wouldn't know."

Niall frowns. "Oh, I- I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"It's okay,” she says, waving him off. “Really. He was an ass and- I'm fine, I promise."

He, too, thanks the barista when she hands him her drink, and then follows Gemma to a table. "Can't imagine Harry took it very well."

Gemma smirks. "I think Harry took it worse than I did, honestly. He was proper angry. I mean, I was too obviously, but- It's like he thinks he's older than me, like I'm the little sister he has to protect from assholes all the time."

"I'm pretty sure you could be 30 years older than him and he'd still be fiercely protective of you."

"Probably," Gemma agrees, laughing.

"He really loves you."

She smiles softly. "He really loves you too, you know."

A blush works its way up Niall's neck and across his cheeks, and he dips his head in a vain attempt to hide it as he runs his left index finger through the condensation on his cup.

"He told me why he hasn't sought you out," Gemma tells him. "I don't get it. I think it's a waste of time, honestly, but, I mean- It's Harry, you know?"

All Niall can do is nod.

"I guess he's right when he says that you understand him, then."

"Oddly enough, I do," Niall admits.

"You know, 'fate' is a funny thing when you think about it,” Gemma hums, pausing to take a sip from her drink. “You're here, obviously, and Harry's literally just down the street looking for a new book to read – and maybe you'll run into each other, but maybe you won't."

"Yeah," Niall breathes. His heart starts beating wildly in his chest, and he’s pretty sure he might have forgotten how to breathe.

"Anyway, I have to get going,” she says, pushing herself back to her feet. Niall stands too, and hugs her again. “I'll see you around, yeah?"

Niall nods, swallows hard around the lump in his throat. "Yeah, definitely."

Gemma leaves, then, with one wave over her shoulder as the door to the coffee shop closes behind her.

And then Niall does too, coffee in hand, rushing down the street to the bookshop- And that's where he sees Harry; hair long and curly, shoulders broad beneath a flowery top, legs long, wearing black skinny jeans and brown boots. He wants to go through the door, and he could. He could pretend to be looking for a book too, come around the corner slowly and bump right into him; he could pretend like he didn't know Harry had been there, act like fate really is working out for them…

Except he can't bring himself to do it. Not when he would know that their new relationship would, essentially, be based in a lie. So he observes Harry a little bit longer; takes in his beauty like it’s the very first time; watches Harry’s lips twitch as he reads the back of one of the three books in his hands; wants to run his hands through Harry’s hair and kiss him all over his face. He stays, hovering outside the shop, until Harry makes his way to the front desk, where a young girl behind the cash register greets him with a friendly smile.

And then Niall leaves. 

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

X

Niall isn't expecting it when it happens – and maybe in a few years’ time, he'll think that that's the best part. 

He's walking through the park, coffee in one hand, phone in the other, when someone quite literally runs into him. He narrowly avoids spilling coffee all over the front of his crisp, white shirt before the cup slips through his fingers, splatters against the sidewalk, and splashes onto his – and someone else’s – black boots.

"Shit!" A familiar voice curses, and Niall's whole body freezes. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going and- Oh."

Niall blinks in response. His breath catches in his throat, the butterflies in his stomach come to life, and he swears that his heart skips several beats as his gaze lands on- Harry. Harry, whom he hasn’t seen, at least not properly, since before he left for Rome. Harry, whose skin looks sun-kissed, but healthy; whose chest is on display between the lapels of his floral, button down shirt, whose stubble is trying to peek through the skin across his jaw, whose eyes are bright and shining, whose hair is…short but still very much unruly.

It’s a shock, in the first five seconds that Niall looks at him, because Harry’s had long-ish hair for as long as they’ve known each other, but- He likes it. He wants to run his fingers through it, more than ever before.

"Hi," Harry breathes, smiling softly.

"Hi.”

"I'm sorry, I was reading a text."

Niall shakes his head. "It's okay. Didn't burn myself, so that's a win."

"It was from Louis,” Harry explains. “He and Zayn are finally finished editing the movie."

"I just got the same text not too long ago too, actually."

Harry smirks. "Funny, that."

Niall doesn’t want to think that that might be ‘fate’, but he can’t help it. Can’t get the idea of it out of his head. He can’t help but feel like he’s walking on eggshells again though too.

"This is awkward," Harry murmurs, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s taken the words right out of Niall’s mouth. "Why is this awkward?"

"Reckon we've both been waiting too long for this."

"Yeah, I reckon that too, actually."

"I've missed you," Niall blurts. He has half a mind to cover his mouth with both of his hands, but keeps his arms down by his sides. He shouldn’t have said that. It’s true, but he shouldn’t have said it, because now it’s even more awkward.

Harry remains silent. Stares at him, with his hands pushed into the front pockets of his skinny jeans.

It's like Niall's heart jumps up into his throat and his stomach churns as the silence wears on. And on. And on- And suddenly Niall feels like an idiot. What if he's been wrong this entire time? (Despite Gemma having more or less told him that he's right...) What if Harry's over him? What if he's moved on? What if he met someone in Rome? What if he doesn’t miss Niall? What if he doesn’t want Niall anymore?

"I, um- I should go," Niall mutters. 

"Wait, no," Harry says urgently. His hand wraps around Niall's wrist to stop him from moving – and Niall swears his heart stops this time. "I'm sorry, I just- I've got, like, a million thoughts in my head right now, and I'm... I'm not sure where to start."

"Anywhere, Haz,” Niall finds himself pleading. “Just...start anywhere."

Harry lets go of his wrist, but lets his hand fall, fingers brushing gently across Niall’s palm before filling the gaps between Niall’s fingers. "I... I miss you,” he whispers softly. “I love you. It's been _months_ since we last saw each other, and you _still_ consume me, Niall Horan. Every fiber – every part of me still wants you… _needs_ you."

Niall remains silent this time; just stares at Harry and listens for the words he’s been longing to hear for weeks, can feel the way Harry’s heart is racing, just like his own, through his hand.

"I never thought much about love, or about _fate_ , Niall. I liked people, and I loved sex, and I liked the _idea_ of being in love but I’d never actually _been_ in love, not for real – and then I met you, Niall. And it was like...I had to have you, but it was deeper than that; it was more than just physical or even emotional. It was like…spiritual, you know? It’s like I really could feel it deep down in my soul. I'm a bit of a believer in fate now."

"I've noticed," Niall teases, squeezing lightly at Harry’s fingers. "I did read the ending for your screenplay."

"You did," Harry nods. "And you told me it was _perfect_."

"Because it is." Niall looks at him; knows that Harry knows what he's _really_ trying to say; that it’s more about _them_ , and less about James and Edward.

"Do you remember the day we met?" Harry asks suddenly.

Niall nods. "Like it was yesterday. It was very much like this, actually, except _I_ kind of ran into _you_ and you dropped your smoothie."

Harry laughs. "And then you asked me if I'd fancy kissing a stranger for the first time."

Niall smiles warmly. "And you said that you'd love to."

"I thought you were asking me to kiss _you_."

Niall smirks. "I know."

Harry shrugs. "Got to kiss you anyway though, didn't I?"

"You did."

It already feels like this is a new beginning, whatever this is. Like this is their second shot. Like it’s their _moment_. It’s like everything that has happened, has led them to this moment; like this was supposed to be their beginning all along.

And maybe it is. Maybe they needed everything before this to happen so that _this_ could happen. Maybe they needed the chance to grow, and to figure out where they both stood – together _and_ apart – before they took the first real step.

Harry licks his lips, dips his head just so. "Niall Horan," he whispers, bringing his free hand up to brush his thumb across Niall’s jaw before cupping his fingers around the back of Niall’s neck.

Niall takes a deep breathe. "Harry Styles."

"Do you fancy letting me be your _last_ first kiss?"

Niall fists his hands in the front of Harry's shirt before he even thinks it, and then promptly pulls him forward. Their foreheads knock together clumsily, and an amused 'hmph' slips between Harry's lips. Their noses brush together, and Niall can feel Harry’s breath, short and shallow, on his face. He smirks, "Thought you'd never ask.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!
> 
> I can't believe it's over. It's like I'm ready, but I'm not ready at the same time.
> 
> This fic was my baby for a long time. I started it a couple of years ago, didn't think it was ever going to be good enough to publish so I put it away, but I always came back to it. It was always in the back of my mind, and then Ryan encouraged me to give it a go and, well, there it is!
> 
> Thank you, everyone, for reading this story and being so supportive. Thank you, thank you, thank you. It truly means a lot, and I appreciate it so much. You're all so great.
> 
> And a huge thank you, again, to Ryan for putting up with me throughout the whole writing process. This fic would probably literally not exist without him.


End file.
